Dimples are a Girl's Best Friend

I've done my self exams since I was 35. Once a month, according to instructions. Now it's no secret that I'm not exactly Dolly Parton-esque, so I always took comfort in the fact that if I couldn't feel anything, so there must not be anything there because there was literally no place to hide.

This, my 43rd year, has definitely brought noticeable changes to my body. Joints creak. Eyes squint. Weight is more stubborn. Arms are less firm. So when I looked in the mirror about two months ago and saw a small dimple on my left breast I thought, "Great, now I'm getting cellulite in my itty bitty breasts ... what's next?" I of course immediately did an self exam ... pushing, prodding, poking to find anything that felt lumpish. Nothing. "Maybe it will go away, I thought."

Then I proscratinated. Funny how that works. I knew I should get it checked out but kept thinking I'd wake up one day and it would be gone. There have been so many times when I got myself all worked up over something that ended up being nothing. I've perceived that doctors thought I was a hypochondriac. I've worked myself into a tizzy only to find it's something "perfectly normal." After a couple of weeks, I made the call and set the appointment. The doctor wasn't available so I was to see the nurse practitioner. When I got there for the appointment it had mysteriously disappeared from the schedule. "No big deal," I said. I'll just reschedule. So I rescheduled for the following week.

When "Dr. Phil," the nurse practitioner, entered the room, he said "So you're here today for a scary thing." Zing. "I wasn't scared until you said that," I replied. He found nothing upon exam, but consulted with my primary care physician and they both agreed we should be aggressive in finding out what was going on.

Next stop, a diagnostic mammogram. I have no idea how women with large breasts endure those things! Results were inconclusive. There was "something" that "didn't spread out quite right" so they sent me down the hall for an ultrasound. Just like when I was pregnant ... but not really. The tech took some ictures, left the room, came back, said he needed to take some more pictures. I was watching the screen, but really didn't know what I was looking at. There were these black spots. "That can't be good," I thought. But nothing was said.

The tech left and returned with Dr. Gurney (what a name!), the radiologist. "There are three nodules that we can't identify." That led to biopsy which led to my diagnosis.

Last week I had an MRI that showed "something small but suspicious" on my right breast. I'll have another biopsy tomorrow. My treatment plan won't change, but if the right breast turns out to have cancer in it then the doctor will take a lymph node from that side.

Bill and I marvel at the fact that, were it not for the dimple I would have gone about my business at least until my next mammogram, which is six months away. By then the cancer would be larger, and may have spread.

So my message to all of my girlfriends out there: Do your self exams. Question everything. Take charge of yourself and your health. There's so much riding on it.