My Breasts, My Cure -- Chapter One

Chapter One

** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only **

Examining My Breasts

It's time to examine my breasts.

         I drop my nightgown onto the floor and stand in front of the mirror with my arms down my sides. I scrutinize the contour and shape of my breasts-my best physical assets, at least according to the men I have loved. Gravity has prevailed in forty years, and my breasts no longer point upward, but I am very pleased that they haven't changed drastically. They are still firm and the nipples and areolas are pinkish. I put my hands on my hips with tightened chest muscles, and then raise one arm above my head. With the flat part of my fingers I play piano on each breast in a gentle circular movement, finishing at the nipple. I do not feel anything out of the ordinary. I take a few steps toward the bed and lie down with a pillow under my shoulder. I raise my arm above my head and reexamine myself for lumps, from the collarbone, my armpit and both breasts. I do not feel any lumps or any thickening, and there is no discharge when I squeeze my nipples hard.

         My regular monthly self-breast examination is complete and I am pleased that I did not find anything unusual.

         Even with the latest controversy on the necessity of self-breast examination, I firmly believe that breast health starts at home, and since no once knows exactly what causes breast cancer, every woman must think that she is at risk, and, therefore, must take every precaution to prevent the disease from invading her body. But most importantly, I have lost a brother and a sister from cancer, and another sister was diagnosed with colon cancer more than ten years ago. Thank God she is now in remission. For this reason, I continue to perform my monthly breast self-examination around my period, get my yearly mammogram and continue a clean lifestyle of no smoking, no drinking, and above all, good diet and exercise.

         I shower, get dressed, and drive down to Denver. I am confident that my routine mammogram today will be just like all the other mammograms in the past several years: negative.

         But the radiologist detects some suspicious lesions and additional mammograms are taken. Still, I am not concerned. After all, I just examined my breasts this morning, and I did not find any lump or swelling anywhere--no nipple discharge or irritation or pain, and no change in the quality of my breast skin, of the nipple, or of the areola.

         The friendly and extremely pleasant Dr. Kenney Cole comes into the room. He looks young, and nice looking, too. I get up from my chair as we shake hands. "Please sit down," he says. "Are you comfortable Miss Nalayab?"

         "Yes, thank you."

          "Sorry for keeping you here this long. There are some suspicious lumps in your breast that's why we had to take more films."

         "That's quite all right. Thank you for being thorough."

         He pulls a chair, sits down and examines the films with the technician. I start to wonder, but still not feeling apprehensive.

         "There are definitely some suspicious dense tissues in both breasts," he turns to tell me. "Eighty percent of tumors found in breasts are benign, so chances are that these are benign, too. However, I would like for you to come back for an ultrasound-guided core biopsy so we can study these tissues better."

         I feel a heartbeat jump inside my chest. I tell my heart not to get excited. I am sure there is nothing to worry about. I've been in this situation before, about five years ago. I remember spending days and nights of unnecessary anxiety. The biopsy in my left breast showed a benign tumor then. These will be non-malignant as well.

         "We'll take samples from both breasts using local anesthesia. We will obtain the specimen from the left breast using ultrasound-guided core biopsy, and stereotactic core biopsies on the right breast using a device fitted with an 11-guage probe."

         At this juncture, nothing Dr. Cole is saying makes much sense to me. I listen to his thorough explanation but nothing registers in my brain. Am I starting to really worry, more than I care to admit?

         He hands me a clipboard document, returning me from my reveries. "So, if you would just sign this consent," he says, "we'll go ahead and schedule you for the biopsies in three days."

         I sign the document and thank him.

         I drive to Whole Foods Store nearby and I sit in the parking lot for a while. I ponder the possibility of cancer. What if I am not so lucky this time, I say to myself, remembering the scare I had before when the biopsied lump showed a benign cyst. Instinctively, I think of my mother and am immediately reminded of the family curse--my mother's worst nightmare: to lose another child from cancer.

          "My God. Please don't let my mother bury her third child."

* * *

Next item: "My Breasts, My Cure -- Chapter Two"