Babopsy (Think, My Big Fat Greek Wedding)

These past two weeks have been CRAZY! I was just thinking it was three weeks, so that just goes to prove how I've lost a bit of my mind.

Okay, so a year ago, at 39, I found a small, pea sized lump in my right breast. I have some pretty lumpy breasts, but this just didn't feel right. I went to the doctor, they referred me to Mammography. Many breast squishes later, I was told it was a cyst. I was told that unless it got irritating, I didn't have to worry. About two months ago it started to get bothersome. It was growing. It was hard. Then, after Christmas a bump under my arm started bugging me. Here I am still thinking it was that "bothersome" cyst that needed to be aspirated. I went back to mammography on February 4th, 2016. I  go through all the procedures. Breast squishing, cold hands, hold your breath. Then, the doctor wants to ultrasound.

Here's where it comes to a screeching halt. Cue tires squealing, rubber burning sound effects. Mammography doctor tells me,"It's not a cyst."

"Wha? What?!"

"It's suspicious for cancer."

Now I'm feeling like I'm walking around in a Salvador Dali painting, leaking clocks and everything. I lost it a little bit. Okay, I lost it a lot. I'm ugly bawling to a woman I just met 45 minutes ago, who has seen and touched my breasts, and is now watching me have a nervous breakdown. I don't think my best friend has been that up in my business. Thankfully, Dr. S is sweet, understanding. She holds my hand and comforts me. Then she tells me she wants me to come back tomorrow so she can push a huge needle into my breast and take bits of the ugly thing to the pathologist. The woman should be working to release hostages. I mean, if you can tell someone some of the worst news they've heard, then proceed to convince them to come back the next day so she can torture them with needles? Amazing skills.

I remember walking out of the hospital in a daze. I remember calling my husband (who was in Guam at the time finishing up a year long deployment), but getting nothing. I remember texting a close friend who I knew had fought and beat BC. Then I proceeded to emotionally vomit all over her, too. When I finally got a hold of my husband, I was practically hyperventilating on Oahu's H1, screaming, "You need to come home!"

February 5th, 2016

If you've not been on H1 in Oahu during rush hour, you're not missing out. Yes, Hawaii is beautiful. You can see Diamond Head from the freeway, palm trees swaying, but the mere fact you have to leave an hour and a half early for what should take twenty minutes is so aggravating you lose all sight of the beauty. Traffic here is EPIC. My husband convinces me I have to leave at 5 am for my 7:30 appointment. I'm happy to say I was early for my appointment, but waiting in sketchy areas of the city while waiting for time to pass is nearly as scary as being told, "It's suspicious..."

Dr. S successfully takes out seven. Yes, SEVEN samples from the mass in my breast. One from my armpit. She also left bits of titanium in my breast so the surgeon knows where it is. The results should be back in 3-5 business days. It's a Friday. UGH!!!!

What follows is probably the most stressful, anxiety ridden weekend of my life. My parents, praise God for these amazing people, have switched dates on their tickets to come out one week earlier than they had planned. My husband is navigating the crazy bureaucratic nature of the US Army to heed to my pleas to "Come home! Now!" I start to look for ways to help myself during these crazy days of waiting waiting. What do you do? You find a way to take the part of the bull that you can manage by the horns (or the tail if you end up with that end) and you figure out ways to control what you can control. For me, it was diet and supplements. I read up on Gersen. I completely, cold turkey give up all meat, dairy, eggs... Well, pretty much everything but fresh fruits and vegetables. The staff at Walgreen's become my homegirls with as much as I'm in there getting supplements. It really does help. Take control of what you can. You can't control the results of the test. You can't control that it's the weekend and waiting is like watching a dog with worms butt skid across your favorite rug. You can control what goes into your body.