The Biopsy

November 16 2020

My wife and I did our research over the weekend in preparation for heading to the Women’s Imaging Center. Their protocol was to wait outside until summoned. I sent a text asking for my wife to come in with me because I had questions. We received a reply that she could come in for the paperwork, but would have to return to the vehicle while I proceeded with the biopsy.

I again sent a text message requesting privacy for our Q&A time to which the second response was more favorable. I do realize the challenges of COVID; and wanting to reduce gathering size thus reduce risk of spread; and yet I couldn’t trust that I would hear everything said, retain what was told to me, nor remember to ask all essential questions.

The front office staff were very helpful and compassionate in their demeanor…this place already felt different then other sites in which I received any testing, but then again this is the first I was being tested to rule out cancer in which the preliminary report stated BIRAD 5 – 95% likely to be malingment.

UGH!

Front office personnel led my wife and I to a changing room and I was instructed to to place a gown on while waiting for the Tech. I looked at my wife and said, “I want to have on real clothes when I ask these questions.”

Moments later the tech came in and saw me in my street gear, “you are supposed to have a gown on” to which I replied, “We have questions and I’d like to be in real clothes for them.” Already feeling vulnerable while discussing the abnormal, I proceeded to quote the radiologist report from the previous Tuesday:

ASSESSMENT: BIRADS Category 5: Highly suggestive of malignancy

This technician astutely observed my nervous apprehension and replied, “I am a tech let’s get you a radiologist.” To which I simply said, “thank you.”

She led us to a more private area that appears to have once been a second reception area where the privacy shades were drawn; the sliding window where a receptionist might have been was closed and the door which led to the outside was firmly shut. We sat in this room that hasn’t probably been unused since COVID because I gazed up and saw a big ole cobweb…poor spider, “I bet you don’t have much here to eat these days..”

The door to the hallway remained open and I saw the tech go into a private room off the hallway as the door remained slightly ajar once more (what is it with not closing doors, people!). I knew she was giving a report to the radiologist. I could hear the murmurs and then I heard, “I wonder why he didn’t document that.” In a reasonable amount of time, both came into where my wife and I were seated as the tech introduced us to the doctor.

The radiologist provided excellent detail with much care to the words she used opening with sharing she reviewed the images that lead her to the same conclusion of BIRAD 5. She explained the initial findings in detail before talking about the lymph nodes and if enlarged she would recommend obtaining a biopsy sample from both the left breast and a lymph node.

Okay, I was ready now. My wife was allowed to wait back in this area; and after a brief hug with my gown in place I proceeded down the hall following the tech to the room where I would get a huge friggin needle plunged into my left breast…fun times!

I’ve had various medical procedures on multiple body parts in which I try to decline anesthesia as often as possible. I was awake while my wisdom teeth were pulled. I got to see the inside of my right knee while the plica was trimmed and the meniscus repaired. I even got to see the inside of my uterus when for a brief moment in my life I was trying to get pregnant…a camera shoved through the cervix fucking hurts, but it’s pretty cool to see!

I could feel the coolness of my blood cascade down my left rib to my back…surreal moments while feeling like a medical specimen.

None of those outpatient procedures had the same stakes as this one…but the curious in me had my eyes glued to the screen as the numbing agent was poked into my boob (and later my left armpit). I would watch the technician find the lump, double check the measurements before the radiologist would insert the needle and when she found the spot she wanted, they would say, “get ready for the loud click!.”

SNAP! It sounded like a stapler being pounded when in fact it was a little scissor cutting off a piece of the lump in my breast (and later a piece of my slightly swollen lymph node).

SNAP! Another piece bites the dust. SNAP! And another. SNAP! SNAP! I think she took like five samples from each location. And just like that we are all done! The tech wipes off the blood. Places a butterfly stitch; and lets me know I am free to go. I sit up; and rather surprisingly say to her, “Okay, well I am super dizzy so I think I shall just sit her for a few minutes.” I never get lightheaded, but here I was just knowing that if I tried to stand I would be going right down. I ate that morning because there was no restriction from eating a meal before the procedure.

Looking back, I think that it was all about nervous, anxious, fear-filled energy activating my central nervous system while on the surface I tried to appear all calm, cool, and curious about needles in boobs…

By the time I was ready to walk to my wife, get dressed, and have us get out of the building, we had just enough time to get me to the office for my first client. No time to process these emotions of the day as I had to contain my fears and focus on other people’s needs.