My Breast Cancer Scare At 34

When I was 34, I discovered a tiny lump in my left breast.  Well, I rediscovered it. See, I’d known it was there when I was nursing my youngest a few years previously.  I nursed him for twenty two months, and I often had clogged milk ducts.

At the time, I dismissed the weird lump as another clogged duct.  

Fast forward to 2017, and my hormones went crazy- is that a thing in your early thirties?  So my breast size was fluctuating each month. I had to buy new bras to accommodate the changes.  Since I was forced to pay more attention to “the gals”, I noticed that weird little lump was still there.  Two years after I’d stopped nursing, it couldn’t be a milk duct that was still the problem, right?

I was overdo for the yearly gynecological exam by about five years (I know, I know), so I decided to find a doctor here in Austin and get it checked out.  I had a small amount of anxiety before the appointment, but I fully expected the doctor to allay my concerns.

She didn’t.  She found the lump I’d mentioned, and another in the same breast.  Then on the right side she found a big one.

She asked if I’d noticed it.  I had noticed that side was slightly bigger, but I had attributed the difference to nursing as well.  The same thing had happened before after my first baby stopped nursing. But I did not really notice a lump….actually, I was just a little lumpy all over, but again- I blamed nursing.  It really does change your breasts.

The doctor told me to get checked out right away at the Austin Breast Imaging Clinic .  I made an appointment for the next week, and tried not to freak out. For a week, I prayed and I thought and I tried not to research.  My husband asked if I wanted to talk about it, and I told him “No.” There was nothing to talk about in that strange state of flux…the not knowing.  If I did have a diagnosis, I told him, then I’d talk about it. Tell people. Take steps. Right then, in the not knowing stage, there seemed no point for me to worry anyone or obsess over it.  I realize that other people might want to reach out, to seek comfort and encouragement.

However, I have a different personality and prefer to work through things in my own head. Even if that means I spend a week thinking I might have breast cancer.

The day of my appointment came, after what seemed like both an eternity and just a split second.  When I entered the office, I was struck by how beautifully decorated it was. Well that makes sense, I thought, as it’s a feminine place to be.  I tried not to look at the other women in the waiting room, because it was too easy to imagine myself in their place. Some had obviously lost their hair due to treatment.  Some were much older. I didn’t see anyone even close to my age. I wondered what they were waiting for on that day, in that room, as we all sat in silence, encumbered by the heavy weight of our collective hopes and fears.

I was eventually called back into the imaging area, and it was even more beautiful and relaxing.  I was instructed to put on a plush white robe and leave my items in a locker. Then I sat on a huge white upholstered sofa, feeling quite small in my fluffy robe with my too hot coffee in a sytrofoam cup.  I texted my husband a picture of my slippered feet with a “just like the spa!” caption. I was hoping to show him that I could have a lighthearted mood in such a place. Of course I couldn’t.

I  went back to the exam room, where I received my first ever mammogram- this was a diagnostic mammogram, which I learned is different than a screening mammogram.  

I knew it would be painful, but…wow. Then I was brought to a different room for the 3d ultrasound imaging. I laid back on a table and had the imaging done.  The woman who took the images was very soothing and professional. I held it together while she was in the room with me, then she left so the pictures could be assessed.  

Lying on an exam table wearing practically nothing, I felt vulnerable. I knew that any of us at any time can be failed by our own bodies.  Lives are cut short every day, and no one is immune to cancer. I blinked back tears thinking of my kids, and my husband, and tried to stop envisioning their lives moving forward without me. I’ve had two miscarriages, and high risk pregnancies, and laying on a table waiting to hear “the news” is not somewhere I like to be.  I was still as a statue, breathing evenly, but inside I was near panic.

The door finally opened, and a doctor walked in.  She wasted no time. “It’s fine. You’re fine.”

I breathed out and realized that my whole body had been clenched, waiting to hear the verdict.  The doctor told me that I have a benign tumor on the right side, that we will have to watch it and check it yearly, and to come back if I notice any changes.  And the other small hard lumps? They were harmless cysts. She said I have fibrocystic breasts, which means that my breast tissue is rope-like and naturally lumpy, and very prone to fluid filled cysts.  It can be a hereditary condition, and it often goes undetected. In fact, more than half of women experience fibrocystic breast changes at some point, usually from hormonal fluctuations. Having this means that it will be tough to detect if I do have any real tumors, and I’ll have to have advanced ultrasound imaging.  A typical screening mammogram will not offer clear results for me. It may look like I have a tumor when I don’t, or a real tumor may go undetected because of the state of my breast tissue.

It does NOT mean that I have cancer, or increase my risk for breast cancer.  

I now know that there are self care treatments at home I can do to alleviate symptoms, such as wearing a sports bra to sleep, using a hot water bottle, taking oral contraceptives to lower my hormone levels, limiting caffeine intake and fat in my diet, and taking over the counter pain relievers for any tenderness.  I know what to watch out for, and am ready to return to the doctor if I have any new symptoms.

I also have learned through my own research how lucky I am to have such a mild case so far.  Some women have debilitating pain, and some may have to have needle aspiration to remove fluid from cysts, or rarely surgical excision to remove a lump that hasn’t responded to other treatments.  

I’m not to that point, and hopefully I never will be.  For now, in my mid thirties, “the gals” and I are doing okay.  And I have found renewed focus on making each day count, on writing more in my journals to the kids, on finishing my photo and documenting projects, on being present more and tasking less.  

Every day is a gift, and I am aware that the universe gave me a little reminder of that with my breast cancer scare.

Overall, this experience was eye opening for me.  I didn’t expect to be worried about my breast health in my early thirties, but I’m glad that I learned so much about my own body and what my future may hold as I continue to navigate life with fibrocystic breasts.

Anyone else have similar experiences or a different breast cancer scare? Share in the comments.