mammogram - It's a Vivas Thing!

This week has kind of been a blur. The Princess is in the hospital again, which just breaks my heart. As if that wasn't enough, first thing Monday, I received some news. The call went something like this:

Me, "Yes, this is Hope Vivas and I'd like the results of my 2nd mammogram please."

Girl A, "Hold on one moment please."

Girl B, "Ms. Vivas, I just want you to know we've already talked to the breast surgeon and we're setting up your surgery for tomorrow. We just need to check with the schedulers and we'll call you back."

Me, with my brain trying to grasp what she was saying, "Huh?"

Girl B, "The doctor's have already talked and we'll have you scheduled with the breast surgeon within the hour. We're trying to have it done tomorrow."

Keep in mind, I have absolutely, without a doubt, no idea what she is talking about.

Me, "My surgery is scheduled for next Tuesday."

Girl B, "No. That surgery is canceled. They will not do that surgery until they know what is going on with your breast."

Me, "Wait. What is going on with my breast? What did the report say?"

Girl B, "It says it is highly suspicious. I'll call you back within the hour to let you know when your surgery is."

I just kind of hung up the phone, calmly walked outside to my husband and said, "I'm really sorry, but you won't be able to make you're trip this week. I have to see the breast surgeon." And then, I started to cry.

Within the hour, I get another call from Girl B. She states that there are no breast surgeons in this city who take medicaid (my husband has been out of work for three months), so they are going to send me to the diagnostic center for a biopsy and then we'll have more time to find a surgeon. I need to get my films in the meantime. I feel nauseous.

When you get a phone call like this, several thoughts run through your brain. It ended up that I was scheduled for my biopsy yesterday, but on a waiting list for Tuesday and Wednesday. I've decided that people shouldn't mess with me like this. I consider myself a reasonable person and I can take it, if you just let me know what is going on.

So, I get a call from the nurse at the diagnostic center who let me know what to expect. She wants to know if I want Valium. I have a pretty strong tolerance for pain, but I hate, hate, hate needles. And apparently, they're going to be in my breast. For about an hour. My mom says, "You'll want the drugs."

B-boo thought that was funny. It reminded her of the scene in "Last Holiday" when Queen Latifa needs brain surgery and her insurance won't pay for it. She asks the lady how much it will cost, and the lady tells her. Then she says, "That's without anesthesia. You'll want that." We cracked up. We tend to find humor in bad situations. That's how we survive.

So we finally get to Thursday and we walk back, husband and friend in tow. He's cracking jokes. I tell the nurse, "Now you know why I need drugs." She thinks that's funny. Then she's hands me the drugs and tells me to chew and swallow because they'll kick in faster. Taste nasty, but if it works faster, then I'll do it! From there, we go into the room with the big table with a hole in it. I'll be lying there for the next 40ish minutes, hanging through the hole while getting poked and prodded with needles. The show me the pictures of my problem and explain why they need to be removed, how they're going to do it and what they are looking for. I'm praying the drugs kick in soon.

They don't.

I explain my fear of needles as they prep me for the test. Ladies, that second mammogram wasn't nothing compared to the biopsy!

You have to lay there…and not move. Not that you would anyway, because they've once again, managed to squeeze you into a vice so tight you wouldn't dare even think of moving. Then, I see hoses. I ask what they are for and she says they're the vacuum. I decided to stop asking questions right then and there. I don't want to know anything else.

Next, the nurse asks me to close my eyes. I shut them tight! That can only mean one thing; needles. And the drugs still haven't kicked in.

I feel myself getting sterilized and then she places her hand on my back. The doctor comes in and introduces himself and lets me know what he's doing. They remind me not to move. No problem. They say it will numb me like Novocain numbs at the dentist. (I'm secretly praying this works better since Novocain doesn't always work with me. And believe me, I want this one to WORK!)

One. Two. Three. Four. Four numbing shots. Not fun.

Then, they tell me to let them know if I feel any sharp pains because I'm not supposed to.

Don't worry, I'll let you know! But I just say, "Ok" because I'm trying really hard not to move.

Next, they put the big needle in me. I can feel it, but it doesn't hurt. But it feels big. I could be wrong, but still…..and then, the machine turns on. It sounds something like when they mix paint at the paint store, but it's your breast that's being mauled. This goes on for a while, and then they tell you again,

"Don't move. The needle is still in you and we need to make sure we have all we need."

Yeah, ok, no problem!

After a few more moments, they come back and tell you that they're done. They insert a little titanium clip for future tests as a marker, and then inform you that you have to have yet another mammogram.

"Well then, could you please hurry and do it while my breast is still numb?"

Unfortunately for me, someone else is getting a mammogram, so I have to wait in the waiting room with the other ladies who are waiting for their mammograms. Only, I've obviously just had a procedure (You can tell by the hospital gown and bag of ice), and they're in cute little pink smocks. It's funny being on this side. This time, the other women try to avoid your eyes and the room becomes instantly silent. The air becomes thick and uncomfortable. They all look down at their laps.

Finally, I am called back. It's not near as painful this time. (Of course, I'm still numb!) The nurse says that the 2nd mammograms are the worst. No kidding!

This morning, I'm taking it easy like I'm supposed to. It's hard to sleep when you can't lay down like you want to. I'm sore.

But, I have time to sit and reflect on things. I've done that a lot this week. My son wants to know why God keeps allowing these things to happen. He just doesn't understand. I tell him, I don't either. But I do know this: We have a big God, who loves us. We have to keep our faith in Him, and trust Him. I do know He'll bring us closer to Him, to us, if we'll allow Him. So, this week, things aren't worth getting upset over.

Instead, I've played cards with B-boo and the Good Looking One's girlfriend.

I've relaxed while I listen to the Talented One play the piano. His music is so soothing.

I smile at myself when I see ALL of the Drama Queen's stuffed animals stuffed against her window, facing out, and tied with the blinds, as if they are looking for Santa or the Tooth Fairy to arrive.

I enjoyed sharing chocolate with Punky and B-boo while we watch a show together.

I'm taking the time to talk to the friends who call to check in.

I relax as the Smart One brushes my hair for me before he heads off to school.

I enjoy the breakfast in bed that the Drama Queen brings me. Silver tray, plate of toast and eggs, with my favorite jelly. Salt and pepper included and purple flowers to make it look pretty.

I love my husband for being so sweet. And loving. And making me smile in spite of it all.

Yesterday was my one year anniversary of my blog…and I forgot! I had more important things to do, actually, but still. Happy Anniversary to Me!

Anyway……….

This is going to be one of those posts that you wonder if you should write…and you think maybe not, but then…somebody has to be the one to warn others! And so, if you're a guy, you may want to skip this post. Ladies, read on!

Two weeks ago, I went in for my yearlies. You know, all of the yearly things that women have to do to make sure they are maintaining their health? Part of me is thinking maybe I shouldn't have, but…

Part of my *yearlies* is to now get a mammogram. Apparently, once you're over 40, you just have to have it done. I remember having one at 21 and thinking it wasn't so bad. At 21, I hadn't read all of the horror stories about what a woman goes through for one of these tests and I stayed *innocent* for years.

I remember reading comical stories about what women go through and laughed.

So, last week, I went for my turn. While I was baring myself and good-naturedly complaining, I was reminded by the lovely technician to think of this test as a good thing; it's good to know that there is nothing wrong when there isn't; and if there is, well, at least they will find it. Yeah, OK. I went on to be pinched and pulled, flattened and stretched, hold your breath and all of that good stuff, but it really wasn't near as bad as the stories would have you to think.

Until they call you until you that something is there. But don't worry, they're not saying it's this and they're not saying it's that, they're just saying it's something that needs to be looked at closer.

Notice the word: closer.

For all of you ladies who have escaped having a *closer look,* you may now stop complaining. Because closer look means just that.

This time, it meant going into an ICE COLD room. The machine looks the same; is, in fact, the same machine. So I ask the lovely technician, "What is it going to see this time that it couldn't see the last time?…and why is the room so much colder this time around?"

She replies that they will magnify the image in a certain spot this time. That's all she says.

And then, she makes you stand even closer. And you gasp, because the machine is F-R-E-E-Z-I-N-G.

And she pulls and stretches and flattens you. Like a pancake.

And then, she flattens you more. Like a piece of paper!

And you can not possibly breathe. She tells you to hold your breath. Hello? I'm already doing that! And you keep holding it. And keep holding it. Until you think you're going to pass out.

Finally, she lets you loose.

And as you're gasping for air, she turns the machine to a different angle, and starts all over again.

"I don't remember it being this painful the last time."

Her reply?

"Oh, well, that's because this time, we need to get a really close look. It does hurt a bit."

Ya think?

Well, no, you don't get to think, because by this time, she's grabbed you again and has started the mauling process all over again.

You stop breathing again, but you're afraid to swoon, because, if you pass out, you might fall, and that would be really bad since you're still connected to the machine.

Finally, after three of these episodes, she informed me that she was done. I was ecstatic! I was outta there!

Only, not.

Because, you see, when you have to go back the second time, they lead you back out to a little freezing cold waiting room, where you sit with other freezing cold women. And you have to stay there until the radiologist looks at the images and decides if you have to go back in for an even closer look or if you'll be allowed to escape go home.

I haven't prayed quite so hard in a while.

It worked, though. Because after 15 more minutes of waiting, I was given my freedom. I don't think I've ever dressed so fast or left a building so quickly! I'm still sore!

All I have to say is this:

Regular mammograms are nothing compared to the *closer look* mammograms! That's where the real stories are!

Reflections

What They Don’t Tell You!