I don't even know where to begin. I feel like this has been the craziest morning. Just bizarre with all these little snippets of stories running parallel to each other yet intertwining on beautiful upholstered sofas and then in hallways in passing, then on tables, and under machines. It's a bizarre globe of swirling matter that seems a little surreal in this fog of coughs and sneezes and masks and such. I feel horrible as if this cold is purposely out to contain me. And I am certainly contained. I need some sleep. But despite this swirl of intersections, and weight of snotty noses and barking seal coughs, I feel calm and peace,
I will cut to the chase. You can immediately stop praying for fat. It's not fat, and I don't want that prayer to back fire and me take on fat in areas I don't need it, so let's nix that prayer right now. Don't utter those words again. My hips are counting on that! But thank you for your diligence all the same. So we know it isn't fat, and now we also don't think it is malignancy (more on that below) nor fluid, nor calcium deposits, nor...well to use her words " I have absolutely no idea what this is."
It started with me sitting in a waiting room of 12 women, that number would fluctuate as as I sat, all clad in the same two layers of muddled grey gown. What struck me first about the room was the 3 daisy shaped light fixtures hanging above my head, and then the modern wood paneling draped on the far wall and the sage green paper on the back walls. I felt as though I were in a luxury hotel lobby. I kid you not. This place goes all out to make you forget the sterility of the halls leading to this particular imaging area. After absorbing that awesome scenery, I was left with the utter silence of the room. I mean not a word. Not a spoken voice, not background noise, not a TV or a phone call. Just twelve women clad in gray sitting in silence. The silence would come and go as the morning went on as women exchanged themselves out for another and as technicians called out names thus prompting the exchange. But the silence left in between spoke a novel. There were untold stories in this room. Ongoing stories. And I've never heard such heavy silence.
I went back for my ultrasound and the radiologist poked and prodded. There is was the black blob next to my implant. "Ms. McCollum, I was really hoping I was going to get this up on the screen and immediately say "this is nothing" and send you home. But honestly, I have no idea what we are looking at here."
Me: "is it a mass?"
She: "I don't know. Let's get the mammogram and see what comes up."
So she sent me back out in to the luxurious waiting room where now new faces sat (all staring at the mask I was wearing), but the same silence remained. Then I got called back to mammogram. Shove the boob into the slot - picture. Turn the boob shove back into the slot- picture. Shove the side of the boob back into the slot- picture. "ok, you can go back to the waiting room." Back to the silence and yet more new faces. It's as if they passed out a sheet of paper to everyone who entered asking them to respect the silence. But i knew what it was. It was a room full of worry.
"Ms. McCollum?"
I go up to meet the radiologist who says we need to re-do the mammogram. "I am seeing something and I just can't tell what it is." Ok, at this point she had my attention. I was perked first when she said the ultrasound is non-conclusive and sent me to mammogram. But now TWO mammograms? You have my attention. Insert boob, squish boob - picture. Insert boob , squish boob- Picture. Back to the the luxury waiting room.
Now we have found ourselves down to 4 women (myself included). Also in silence. Until....Until the lady next to me turns and looks at me and says, "you look like you feel really bad. I hope you are ok? (me, yeah, I just had a cold that won't let go) I know this sounds crazy but, do you believe in heaven?"
What?!?! No you can't make this stuff up. I sputtered, then clamored to think quick on my feet and said "yes, It's what gets me through these kind of waiting rooms. It's amazing how you can find peace in the knowledge of a heaven". Well, the flood gates opened and the whole waiting room started chiming in. Some told stories about how they got there. Others talked about how heaven played a role in their journey. The women kept asking the touch questions. And I just kept praying God would give the words she needed to hear. Right smack in the middle of that rush of conversation "Ms. McCollum?" I got up and grabbed my stuff and walked over to her and said, "I have to go now, but whether or not you ever believe there is a heaven, you can believe in relationship here on earth and that as a result I will be praying for you and let that give you hope." Mercy, I'm sure I flubbed that up but it is what I had in the 4 second walk out of that room to meet the radiologist! Surely, I could have laid out the saving grace of Christ and all the grace of that, but alas my mind landed where it landed in the split second I had. What a crazy dialogue at such a time as this!!! I'm hoping the conversation continued after I left the room, I'm hoping just the right words were uttered to get her through her day. Something to give her the hope she must have been looking for. Those 4 women will be permanently etched into my brain. Their stories. Their search for hope. Their hunger for more. I was broken by that. On my way out, another women stopped me and said "I'm praying for you, and crossed her heart." Here I was feeling like death warmed over with this awful infection and the mental strain of being anywhere but in my bed and God brought me this little nugget. I know this isn't what you opened this page to read, but it truly is the highlight of the story. Relationship. Trial is a lonely place. And if you don't hear me say anything else today, here me say that. We absolutely have to support people in trial. I've never felt more lonely then in the middle of "stuff" and I know you feel the same. These women proved that to me.
Ok, now I am back with the radiologist in a dark conference room. "Sally, I have no idea what this is. I can say with certainty it is not fat. It is not calcium deposits. And it's not a malignancy, because I have never seen malignancy look like this. I called Lead Plastic Surgeon and spoke with him on the phone about you. I wanted him to look at the scans, but he is out of the country right now, so we decided to have you go see him for an exam and for him to look at the scans with you. He's going to call you to set it up. I'm suspicious it is the sling that is under your implant (to help hold the weight of the implant), but I have no idea what a sling looks like on imaging. I even googled it and there are no pictures out there. So I want him to see it. But for now, rest that we don't think it is malignancy, because if it is, I have never seen one look like this. It looks 'man made' in a lot of ways because it is so dense. Very dense. But it's not the implant itself" (paraphrased slightly off my memory). No malignancy from what we can tell, that's really all I needed to hear.
So, I'm now back in normal clothes, sitting on my bed, very eager to climb under the sheets and take a nap for I feel rough, but I totally feel at peace. This whole day was somehow peaceful, despite 3 sets of imaging, despite knowing they were seeing something, and despite having no idea what it is. God totally orchestrated this day. And I now have 4 women who broke the silence to keep my mind company. That's a score!
I will keep you updated. I imagine my plastic surgery appointment will be next Wednesday. Maybe a biopsy is in my near future, but definitely another exam and lookey loo (there's little dignity in malignancy as you pull out body parts at every turn). I've emailed him and Lead Breast Surgeon who I saw yesterday and am waiting to hear back. He's going to laugh, because I had promised him at my last visit over 6 months ago that I planned on never seeing him again and to not take it personal. Be careful what you promise ladies, Life has a way of tweaking itself as you go.
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