You Just Never Know

If you ever read my old blog, you know that I loudly and proudly underwent breast reduction surgery this past July. It was my 30th birthday present to myself, and one I had been waiting for since I was in high school! I blogged about it in a series I dubbed "The Tata Diaries" and held very little back.

The whole thing went off without a hitch and I told would-be reduction recipients (you'd be amazed at how they come out of the woodwork after you have your own surgery) about how easy the recovery was. Very little pain, no major complications, and the ability to pick out bras OFF THE RACK, instead of on the bottom drawer of a case in the back of the lingerie department - the secret, scary place where the girlies with the extra-big boom-booms go.

Fast-forward to November. I'll admit it - sometimes I admire myself in the mirror and cop a little feel of myself in admiration of my new set. Hmm, except this time something felt weird. There was a lump... not just a pea-size lump, but a LUMP you could grab with your fingers, about the size of a dice. (Die? However you say it...)

I didn't think much of it, honestly. My old set was "lumpy" (or so sayeth my OBGYN - I never really knew the difference) so I figured it was either scar tissue or maybe I was suddenly able to feel a part of my breast that I couldn't feel when they were so large. Regardless, I blew it off for about a month, but it started to feel strange... almost like a deep, prickly itch. Hmm, I can't describe it. If you've never felt it, you're probably going to be lost. That's the best way I can put it.

So I relented and yesterday morning I went to see my surgeon.
She gave me a poke and said, "Oh yeah, there's definitely a lump there." Good news, in the sense that I hadn't made a jerk of myself by freaking out over an overly-exuberant nipple of something. Anyway, I told her about the prickly itch, and she laid me back on the table, felt me up, and asked me if it hurt when she pressed on the lump. I said no.

That's what concerned her.
It doesn't hurt to the touch. It's solid. It doesn't move when you push on it. She ordered an ultrasound for Thursday to rule out fat necrosis (when your fat tissue dies off after surgery.) But she doesn't think that's what it is.

I've done a lot of reading in the past 24 hours, so I know that if I have a tumor, an ultrasound is not likely to catch it. If I have a cyst, it likely will. I have no idea how or why it works that way, but that's what I've read, over and over.

I have age on my side, and genetics. My aunt had breast cancer years ago - they put her on Tamoxifen and she recovered and never had a problem again. She's the only person in my family who has had cancer - of any kind, not just breast cancer.

But I must say, I have plenty of other risk factors, simply because I'm an idiot.
I'm a little overweight. No one is renting construction equipment to extract me from my house just yet, but I could stand to drop some pounds. I am eternally struggling to quit smoking, and have been since I was 13. I am not in the habit of exercising regularly, despite a rec center membership. I love to eat, and we all know the crappier the food, the better the taste. I got my period before I was 12 - another risk factor. I was on birth control pills for over 5 years at a stretch.

Am I expecting to hear that I have breast cancer? No, not really.
But I'll tell you one thing - if I was asleep before this, I'm wide awake now. The bad habits gotta go. It has finally sunk in - I'm slowly killing myself. I finally admit it - I can't just stop smoking any old time I want. I have no excuse for not eating more fruits and vegetables. I'M AWAKE, I'M AWAKE!

So I have no idea what the outcome of this will be. I'm not scared, but I'm concerned. Not worried, just aware. I refuse to worry about something that could turn out to be nothing, and that's exactly what the enemy wants me to do - freak out. Besides, my mother and my husband are freaking out plenty for me! I say it's not worth freaking out over. Can't fix what you don't know, right? My life is God's.

I just want to get this over with... Pin It