Being a woman of a certain age brings with it certain, shall we say, inconveniences.

The annual pap/pelvic exam.

The hormonal hellscape that creates night sweats

A new interest in your bone density

The insomnia that could be caused by age or adulting (but you’re not sure which)

The dreaded mammogram

And this last one, my friends, is the one that finally tested my patience and power of (gallows humor-tinged) positive thinking.

As many of us with breasts know, they can be quite problematic at times. Consider the hormonal bumps and lumps or the aches when you wear the wrong bra to exercise in. As a woman of a certain age, you do the monthly self exams like you’re supposed to and you follow up if something is off, right? Well – I’ve had something be off a few times now and turns out I’m prone to hormonal cysts. Cool, I can deal with that. If a lump or bump arrives, I’ll watch it and if it happens to hang around longer than a month, let’s go get it checked out. My obligation to breast health is complete! My breasts had other ideas though.

About six weeks ago – I found a lump. I don’t panic at lumps anymore because these puppies are prone to hormonal cysts. I do what I’m supposed to do- I check it for growth every few days, and after four weeks, it’s not bigger but it’s not smaller, and since I was due for a mammogram anyway, I called my doctor and requested a diagnostic mammogram instead. Side note : I was legit denied scheduling because my doctor’s office didn’t call in an order for an ultrasound in addition to a mammogram. So by the time I called the doctor back and request the additional order, and then wait, another 48 hours have passed. Ten days later, I arrive to what should be a routine cyst filled mammogram. Only this time, it wasn’t.

Cue the pressurized mauling that is a routine mammogram at 815 in the morning. Add in some arm contortions to get in the right position for a few different views. Then bam! On to the ultrasound! Sticky gel and bruising pressure into the problematic tit and then on to the waiting room to wait to be cleared after the tech talks to the radiologist. I’m already thinking ahead to the rest of my day at this point. I have a full day at work, I’m cataloging my pantry so I can get dinner on the table by 630. I’m wondering if I have time to get an iced coffee before my sales block at 10am. And then the tech came back in. The look on her face didn’t match my thoughts at all. Turns out the cyst is confirmed and that little nugget of worry is a now a NON-worry. Great! “But heeeeeeeey – let’s talk about this cluster of micro-calcifications right over here and these definitely don’t belong here and absolutely don’t layer out the way they should on the chance they are there. In other words – we are going to need a piece of tissue to make sure this isn’t cancer! The oncology nurse navigator will get that scheduled for ya and we’ll figure it out together.” That picture up there ? That’s me waiting for the nurse navigator. I’m not amused and have moved from thinking about my work day ahead to focusing on the non-stop stream of words rolling through my head. “Area of concern. Benign. Malignant potential. Oncology navigation. Biopsy. Stereotactic. Calcifications. Dense tissue. Increased potential.” I think those words repeated through my head for a solid 24 hours. I barely remember making the biopsy appointment and all the instructions. All I really remember is that the table is like a massage table that you stick your boob through and the techs work from under you. Why I’m fixated on this I have no idea! But here we are. Clearly my brain has decided the process all this by focusing on the most obscure details.

The biopsy got scheduled quickly. I go in within a week and should have some answers in a week or so. But I’ve moved out the stream of words I was stuck in for a day and I’m looking at the bright side here. Early detection methods did exactly what they were supposed to do. Medical science has given patients better outcomes than ever before. And I have been through a HELL of a lot worse, medically speaking, and came out functional on the other side.

Besides – maybe I’ll get a new set of ta-tas. After nursing two kids and just being in my 40’s, these gals are absolutely not where they started. Who’s to say that this isn’t karma making something right – in a really complicated convoluted way?