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The Power of Prayer, Positive Thinking, and Dancing


I think if it turns out to be BC (and I don’t mean Birth Control), I will fly out to NC and get my hair cut with you. (Text message from my sister, Jennifer, before I left for my appointment.)

I was ready. Ready to face whatever the biopsy would show. Today, the day of my biopsy, my aunt had a double mastectomy. I put my pink sparkly tassels on and headed out the door knowing I family and friends were praying for me and sending positive vibes my way. Some were even dancing the lump away.
See the white mass on the top part of the films? Meet my lump.
I was taken to the changing room and told I needed to remove my tassels. Apparently, they might get tangled in the machine. Upon entering the room where the procedure was to be done, I saw pictures of my diagnostic mammogram. I saw the lump. I found it all quite fascinating. I looked for the table where the procedure would take place. All the research I had done on stereotactic biopsies showed the patient laying on a table with her boob hanging through a hole. I wasn’t so lucky. I got to sit in a chair and have the paddles of a mammography machine squishing down on me again.
The second position. I am not 'shackled' at the moment, but I think you get the picture.
The two radiologists positioned my breast under the paddle with a hole for the needle and took several pictures. My breast was in a vice. There was no way I could move if I wanted to. I sat shackled to the machine while the ladies looked at the picture on the computer. They came back and repositioned my breast. Back to the computer to take a picture and check the results. (They were trying to get the perfect picture to guide the needle to the lump.) This was repeated several times before it was decided to squish my boob in a different direction. Again, my breast was locked into the machine while they took their pictures.

Even sitting across the room, I could tell there was something going on. They were having a conversation in hushed tones. “I need to call the radiologist that will be doing the procedure. I will be right back.” The other radiologist (the one that did my two previous mammograms) stayed with me and took my picture with the machine. I told her I was documenting my life for my blog. I told her this was the year I jumped and learned how to fly. To love life. To live it to its fullest.
There is no mass. The white you see is scar tissue.
“It’s gone. The radiologist can’t find it either. He wants you to come back in six months just to be sure.” A smile lit up my face.

“Does this happen very often?” I asked.

“No, it doesn’t,” she replied. “It is a good thing. Go get changed and enjoy your day.”

No biopsy. Couldn’t find the lump. Sorry….no bald head, tats, or wigs. (Text message to my sister, Jennifer, upon learning about the disappearing lump.)

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