• Suzelle Fiedler

    Supporter


    "THERE ARE MANY WAYS TO GET INTO THE FIRE..." Thus sang the voice on the dance mix that I had just put on to do my home workout when my cell phone rang. My heart sank when I peered at the screen and saw the name of my GYN's practice. I had just had my annual screening mammogram the week before--could it be that something had showed up? The lady at the doctor's office told me that something had indeed shown up, and that I was to have a diagnostic mammogram the following week. I didn't finish my workout. One week passed, and the time came for the diagnostic mammogram. It was done without a cushion for my breast, which I thought was adding insult to injury. The technologist informed me at the end that I needed a biopsy. I remember my exact words: "That's swell." As I left the medical building, Don Henley's voice taunted me through the PA system, singing that everything can change in a New York minute. I almost kicked one of the empty chairs in the waiting room. One of my best friends drove me to the biopsy, which was all the way across town, a week later. It was very comforting to have her with me, as I hate to be alone during scary times. I remember lying face down on the procedure table with my right breast sticking through a hole. I remember my breast being numbed and the nurse saying, "Okay...just a little pin prick," and my immediately soothing myself by thinking of Pink Floyd's "Comfortably Numb." On the way home, my friend and I stopped at Starbucks and I treated her to coffee and myself to a Frappuccino, which ruined my diet for the day, but I really didn't care. Three days later, my husband I left for our beach vacation. I knew well that the doctor might call with the biopsy results while I was on vacation and that the results may or may not be good news. While at the beach, I buried the whole situation in a back corner of my mind. I uncovered it only once we got home four days later. Ten whole days after the biopsy, I had still heard nothing, which infuriated me. I finally called my doctor's office and asked for them, being put on hold for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, I got to speak to my doctor, who told me that they had found NO cancer in my samples, but that she was sending me to a breast surgeon because I had some kind of growth in my breast which she described as "precancerous." As of now, the appointment with the surgeon is in two days. I am very grateful that I am one of the lucky ones. I know so many of you aren't as lucky, and my heart goes out to you. God bless you all. Back to Breast Cancer Stories