To be fair, I barely know what day it is anymore. Anytime I see the calendar I’m shocked at how long it’s been since each of my appointments. So here it is, all the information you could ever want (and probably more) about how my diagnosis went down. This also now gives me full authority to send you to this blog anytime you ask me any questions I have already answered a thousand times. It’s called GOOGLE, have you heard of it? If you have any general questions regarding cancer I would advise you to look there before you ask me, someone who was just recently diagnosed what I would consider a stupid question (your teachers were wrong, they do exist).
The week of April 10th I decided to play superstar and shove my hands under my armpits but before I could throw myself into a victorious lunge with my hands above my head I felt something weird that definitely wasn’t there before. So, I did whatever any normal human would do and googled it, just kidding, webMD gives me legit anxiety and I can’t even fathom going on there to see what a cough could potentially mean. Instead, I brought the lump to my mom’s attention and without hesitation she said, make an appointment with your gyno. Normally I would fight her on this because I HATE doctors, and I REALLY HATE going to the gyno; but for some reason I agreed right away and got the first appointment they had, which wasn’t for another week. I went to my gyno and showed him the lump and he did a full breast examination (leave now for those that are cringe worthy cause I’m probably going to just start calling them teeters soon). He said he felt something that seemed a little different and sent me in for a mammography and a sonogram. “Don’t rush it though, it’s probably nothing but it’s better to get it checked out” were his exact words. Thankfully my mom is a full-blown psychopath and immediately called Zwanger-Pesiri to see if I could get in right then and there and she succeeded. I couldn’t care less and just wanted to make it to my hair cut appointment that afternoon cause my roots were real bad.
SPOILER ALERT: My roots are still REAL BAD.
My dad sped home from work to come sit in the waiting room with my mom, and that’s when I started freaking out a little. For those of you who have never experienced a mammography or a sonogram, they trick you into thinking you’re going to the spa. They take you from the main waiting room and bring you to a separate waiting room for their female patients, you get changed into one of their luxurious robes (you know the ones, just like in the hospital, if you wear it the wrong way the whole place gets a little show), and hand you a “complimentary tote bag” to keep your clothes in. I now have about 15 of these bags and I’m at the point where I just bring my own, like I’m going to Whole Foods. I was sitting in this separate waiting room for what felt like hours; they originally wanted to give me a mammogram first but then decided if they could avoid doing that so I wouldn’t be exposed to radiation they would. I went in for the sonogram which was very stressful as someone who has never had one before. Every click and beep I heard I assumed was something awful. After the sonogram, my mom came and met me in the secret waiting lounge and of course knew someone else in there and started chatting it up like we were at bingo night. The tech came out and sweetly whispered that they wanted me to go in for a mammogram after reviewing my sonogram, GREAT.
I was not looking forward to the mamo because my mom always told me “they squish your boobs so hard it feels like they’re gonna pop,” and she was correct. They twist and push your boobs in ways I didn’t even know were possible and then to top it all off, they put them in-between two huge metal plates and then move the plates together. So exhilarating. To protect my ovaries for my “little babies I’m going to have someday,” as the nurse so politely assumed (if she could only see me now), she put on a metal belt that clipped on like fanny pack/chastity belt. They took two pictures as to not over expose me to the radiation. This is when the panic really started setting in, they put me in a different waiting room and told me to wait for the doctor. The phone rings and the nurse who believes I’m going to be a mom one day answered the phone, I cannot even explain the look she had on her face as the doctor was talking, it was as if the doctor on the other end said “that girl you’re staring at, yea that one, she’s going to drop dead in 15 seconds. 15..14…” Then the words “well did anyone tell her? She looks panicked;” mostly said because I was already in full blown tears. She passed me the phone and some doctor told me that there was a nodule on my left breast that looked suspicious and they wanted me to go in for a tissue biopsy. I was in full blown panic tears but once again, the doctors comforting words “it’s probably nothing but we want to play it safe and get it biopsied.”
Biopsy appointment made and my mom immediately flew to Florida. This is how confident she was, along with the doctors, that it was nothing to be worried about. I, on the other hand couldn’t breathe for a few days but then also decided it was nothing. I went in for the biopsy, escorted by my father which couldn’t have been more awkward. After having three biopsies under my belt, this one was the least painful but at the time it was not. This was a tissue biopsy and all I know is that there was some loud machine and plenty of needles. Thankfully I was laying in such a position that I could not see what the hell they were doing. My first question, “when can I go back to the gym?” That’s the level of stressed I was.
I made so many plans for that weekend because it was Cinco De Mayo and my best friend had finally moved to NYC. She was coming to my house for some festivities and then we were moving her in to her new apartment Saturday morning. This was going to be the best summer ever, 2017 was my year. Boy, was I wrong.
I was at work when my mom called me and told me to check in with my doctor. At this point I was so sure that it was nothing that I was about to call my doctor practically smiling when my phone rang. I should have been worried the second I realized my doctor was calling me, and not the other way around. “Hi Kim, have you heard from Zwanger yet?” Still with a smile on my face, utterly clueless as I’m walking through the hallway. “No I haven’t, I was just about to call you! Did you hear back yet?” “Yes I did actually which is why I’m calling.” This is when I kind of started noticing that this might not be the best news so I ran into my manager’s empty office and sat down in the dark. “Well, I have some bad news Kim, it came back as cancerous.” My brain immediately shut off, I don’t even know what happened next to be honest. I somehow ended up on the floor hysterically crying as the teacher from Charlie Brown was speaking to me through the phone. He told me we could come in that day because in reality, what are the next steps. You get told you have cancer by a doctor that doesn’t treat cancer and then you’re on your own. Out into the world with literally no clue what’s next. I called my mom who immediately started scream crying; every time I think about the moment I can picture her running around the house with her hands over her head, which in retrospect is funny but under the circumstances, not so much. My immediate reaction was to cancel everything in the foreseeable future, I texted my best friend who I had so many plans with that things were cancelled because I just got some bad news, I have the C-word.
It took me a while to say it out loud and most of my announcements to friends came via text or I made someone be at the top of the awful news phone chain because I was just over saying it. I’ve been practicing though but I still get choked up every time I say it out loud. Once it is out there I have no problem making jokes and discussing it in great length, sometimes it’s just because when I’m talking about it, it doesn’t seem real, like I’m talking about someone else’s journey. But I know it is my journey and I’m going to own it, but it’s going to be at my own pace. Currently I’m still in the overwhelmed/shocked phase and reality sets in every once in a while, and I cry harder and louder than I ever have in my entire life. That’s ok though, better to let it out at this point because it is fucking scary and sad and every other emotion you could ever think of wrapped into one. I’m 26 years old and have had to make insane decisions recently that I never thought I would have to make in my entire life.
I will succeed, I will come out on the other side of this cured and stronger than I was before. Maybe not immediately because I definitely need to go back to a gym pronto, just waiting for my eggs to harvest, which is another story for another day.
Until then.
Kim