Biopsy #1 (back up) July 3rd

This is what I wrote in my journal a few days after I had the biopsy that led to my breast cancer diagnosis. I started to go back and edit it, but I just gave up. It is really hard to think clearly about this whole event, because I was so upset about it, and because I am still kind of upset about it...apparently.

I was surprised when I read it yesterday to realize I had only gotten up to the part where they shut the door behind me. I thought I'd described part of the actual procedure, but I hadn't. I still haven't. I want to, it feels important. Also, I don't want to, it feels yucky.

When I checked in for the biopsy I was happy to see the nice ladies at the front desk. At this point I'd been in for a mammogram and ultrasound (related to the lump) and a chest x-ray and a CAT scan (related to a bronchial infection.) Everyone had been so sweet and funny and kind and thoughtful. I loved this place. The procedures were uncomfortable and sometimes painful. They could have been dehumanizing, but all the technicians and other staff were just so easy to connect to and enjoy. I didn't mind at all being stripped down and poked and prodded by them. They acted like I could be their daughter or their sister and they talked me through every step of every procedure, explained what they were doing and why and most importantly, when. As in..."I'm going to touch you right here, right now." They apologized for pinching equipment, cold instruments and goopy applications before they touched me with any of them. And I forgave them effortlessly.

I thought they were just going to stick a needle in my breast to get a small sample of calcified cell tissue...and I was still anxious about it. I introduced Maya to the front desk lady and joked, "When the doctor comes at me with the needle, her job is to jump him and..." I pantomimed grabbing the needle and turning it to face him. I laughed. I thought I was hilarious. I didn't mind letting everyone know how freaked out and anxious I was about this procedure. I didn't think they'd take me seriously. Maybe that is why they didn't let Maya in the room? They were polite. The front desk ladies smiled and giggled and Maya and I sat down to read magazines for what I hoped would be a very long wait. It wasn't. An older nurse (actually I guess she wasn't a nurse, she was some kind of technician) came out and called my name. She looked like a nurse. She wore all white and had some kind of upswept hairdo. I'm pretty sure she was wearing white sneakers.

Maya and I walked up to her. I raised my hand to let her know I was the lucky winner. She looked at Maya and asked me,"who's that?" This is Maya, I said. And I think I made my joke about her job was to protect me from the doctor. I had not started thinking of her as grumpy nurse yet, but I would soon. She looked at me with out laughing or smiling and announced that Maya would not be allowed in the room with me. When I asked why not...she said something that made no sense to me. This can't really be what she said, because it makes no sense, but what I remember is that she said they would be using local anesthesia and there would be too much radiation from it. As she said it, I couldn't make sense of it. I wonder if that is a tactic of hers to wrangle compliance from her patients. I'm up for arguing and making a case...but it's hard when you feel confused. Whatever she said just made no sense. I couldn't understand it and it took the wind right out of my sails. I suddenly felt defeated and just gave up. Ok, I shrugged. And told Maya to be right here when I came back. Which was silly, of course she would be...but I needed to say it. I felt sunk and alone.

I hated this whole experience. I do not want to repeat it with my surgery or any follow-up procedures. I'm so glad my Mom's coming today.

I followed the woman-soon-to-be-thought-of-as-grumpy-nurse through a couple turns of the hallway until we got to the 2 seater dressing room outside the mammography room. I had been here before and waited for a quite a while here with Hyde while the technicians got ready. There were only two chairs, situated across from two narrow dressing rooms each with a curtain and a locker. It was obvious I was going to be here at least long enough to trade by business suit for a hospital gown, and probably longer.
"Why can't Maya wait here with me?" I asked.
The nurse snapped, "She won't be any closer to you here."

I didn't point out that this was absoulutedy wrong and untrue. Here, she would be just on the other side of the door. I think anyone would agree that, barring some M.C.Escher/Wrinkle in Time situation, "on the other side of the door" IS CLOSER than "on the other side of the building." I didn't have it in me to argue this point at this time. I don't think I could bring myself to point out what little sense this woman was making, because I sensed she was going to be in charge of my biopsy experience and I couldn't face the possibility that I was surrendering my safety to a complete idiot. Who but a complete idiot thinks local anesthetic is radioactive and that the other side of the door is that same distance as the other side of the building?!? I sidestepped and said, "Yes, but she'd be with me now". Grumpy nurse sighed and heaved her shoulders and went to get Maya.

Maya is snappy and slippery. She is the friend who, if we were kids together, would be able to climb the fence or shimmy through the bars or the gate the fastest. She is charming and quick and knows what rules are for. She would be an excellent conman. I was not there, and I forget what they said, but I believe Grumpy Nurse found her wandering through the "employee only" hallways looking for me. I love Maya.

We chatted and read magazines together while I changed and waited some more. It was nice to have her there.

After they called me in and shut the door behind me, it was nice to know she was on the other side of it.

Nothing else was nice for what seemed like a long time.