Twenty-three is too young for a biopsy, I think.
I guess everybody feels they aren't ready to have their private parts exposed to the world (ok, a radiologist, an ultrasound tech, and student who was probably more nervous than I was). But really, it is more than that. I don't feel ready to be tested for cancer.
Cancer.
I hate how that word sounds. I hate how it feels to type it. It feels like something with teeth. No, I'm not ready for that. But, who is?
At first, I cried. Probably too dramatic for this entire situation. 2% chance is what we are looking at. Just a 2% chance of having that word manifesting in my body. But, when you have a number with something, it becomes more real.
So, after the radiologist urged me to do further testing (aka biospy) I sat on Keygen's bed and looked around his room. I thought silly thoughts like how I was sure the fish would die if I wasn't around. Ok, so I know Cheetah died while I was around, but that was a total fluke.
And then there is Keygen. He hasn't even grown a mustache yet. And who is going to remind him to never wear black socks with brown shoes? Who is going to kiss him until he says "No more kisses momma!" Who is going to let him sleep in the middle more times than he ought to? Who else is going to let him have popcorn for breakfast?
And then there is Reed. Not just any girl would let him bake better than her. And I don't think he would know what to do if I wasn't around to hog the entire bed. I like to hold his hand and the way that he smiles, and I'm just not ready for that to end.
So after thinking about all of those things, I started to cry. Life just got much more real. I am used to bad things happening. I know that the bad days are supposed to remind us to really cherish the good ones, but, even I can't always be practical. It was after my face became all red and splotchy that my sweet boy Keygen came in and said "Momma, don't cry. I'll get you a tissue."
I had an entire week from being told I needed to have a biopsy to actually having one. It was a rollercoaster for me. I had days I was very sensible and knew that I had nothing to worry about. Then, I had days that I hated my body for even THINKING about being sick. I just don't have time for this. I just don't.
After meeting with the surgeon, I felt better. He seemed unalarmed. So two days before the biopsy I found peace with the process.
On the day of the biopsy I felt more uncomfortable about the embarassment of it all. I just focused on that. I focused on the humiliation of exposing myself to strangers in order to not think about why I was doing it.
In the waiting room, I was on edge. I snapped at poor Reed and he just stayed quiet. He understood. He always does. Keygen was busy, as usual. No matter how much your life feels out of control, there is nothing like a 2 year old to remind you that some aspects are always the same.
When I finally got called back which only took 15 minutes but seemed like 15 years, the tech who came to get me was a young man. I had imagined him to be a her. *Sigh*
I'll spare you the details--but will say this--that needle was more like a meat thermometer. Luckily, I felt nothing and the entire process took less than an hour from check-in until check-out. Everybody in the room with me was very friendly. Too bad we couldn't have met under different circumstances. I think we could have all been on a bowling league together.
There is no happy ending--yet. We will know on Tuesday. So for now, I am trying to not think about the 2% and take comfort in being the 98%. After all, I have NEVER been THAT (un)lucky.
