I skipped to my car, feeling like such a responsible woman, proud of myself for not ignoring my health, went home and threw the postcard away.
A couple days later, I got the dreaded call-back. I'd had a call-back before and it turned out to be nothing, so I refused to get my undies in a bunch this time. I went back a week later for an ultrasound, at which time they found "something" on my left breast. They scheduled me for a needle biopsy three hours later. (Don't you worry just a little when anyone in the medical profession is in a hurry? I do. It so rarely happens.)
The phrase "needle biopsy" sounds so scary. It was, on speculation. I had myself pretty amped up. Doctor B was amazing. I felt nothing as I lay on my back with my eyes closed, asking God to please grant me that peace that passes understanding. He did. Friends told me how awful it was, how they were face-down in an awkward contraption, how it hurt. For me, it was painless and quick. I felt proud for being so tough, so resilient.
Before I left, the nurse showed me the little jar containing 3 plugs, like baby earthworms, of my breast tissue. It was weird. I was then sent to have a "quick mammogram." I thought, wait. You have just punched a hole in my breast and now you are going to compress it? Ummmm...will this not get rather messy? As it turns out, when they finished the biopsy, they insert a tiny "clip" in the tumor so that it is easy to find if they need to do another procedure. The mammogram was to insure that the clip was placed properly. I looked on the mammogram film and was amazed. The clip was a teeny-tiny version of a breast cancer ribbon.
(and no, it did not get messy.)
I asked the radiologist whether I should be concerned. He replied, "I find this moderately suspicious."
I went home to wait.