The Invisible Black Woman

The next morning, I got a MyChart alert that I had new results to check out. I logged in and stared at results I didn’t expect at all. I blinked a few times just to try and process what I was looking at. My first-ever mammogram out the gate and in true fashion, I knocked it out of the park—in the wrong direction. It was mostly jargon, but having had the fortunate “luck” of working in a hospital for the first decade of my professional career, I understood what it said perfectly.

In the middle third of the upper outer right breast, there is a 1.3-cm suspected partially obscured nodule with a central calcification. Recommend additional diagnostic mammographic views with possible ultrasound of the right breast.

In other words, there was a lump in my right breast. To put that into terms that are easier to visualize, it was just a bit bigger than the size of a pea. In the scheme of things, not that big, so long as it wasn’t the C-word. Honestly, I was stunned. I expected it to come back all clear and that would be that. So now all the fears I had about having a mammogram in the first place came roaring back. The dread, the anxiety, all the things that drove me to put it off as long as I have, now were taunting me. All the emotions became voices in my head.

See, that is why you should have never had this done in the first place!

What were you thinking waiting this long?

Things were sooooo much better when we knew nothing and could pretend everything was fine.

Welp, we had a good run.

And on and on and on they went. I was beyond stressed. I couldn’t even bring myself to tell hubby about it. Not yet anyway. I told my Sissy (aka, my found sister) about it and she was super supportive. She said it would be okay and if not, she would be there every step of the way. I felt a tad bit less angst about it.

I decided to spend the rest of the week in a bit of denial and not tell hubby at least until Monday. I just didn’t want that hanging over both of our heads through the weekend. So “deal with it on Monday” was the plan I settled on.

The weekend flew past and all I could see was the pink polka-dotted elephant in the corner. For the most part, I did a good job of ignoring it and put on a happy face. That Monday morning, when hubby woke up, I broke the news. I told him I got my test results. He could tell by the pregnant pause after I said that, that I didn’t get the all clear.

“What’d they say?”

“They found something.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

“Now what?”

“I have to go in for more testing.”

“When?”

“I don’t know.”

“But you’re going to go right away, right?”

“Yes, as soon as they fit me in.”

I spent the rest of the morning literally making phone calls. First I called the hospital who did my mammogram.

“Hi, I got my test results and I have to have additional tests done.”

“Oh, okay.” I’m not sure if she noticed, but the woman’s voice dropped several octaves when I told her I had a “positive” mammogram. Not sure if that’s what they call it.

“I’d like to schedule an appointment for the additional tests.”

“Of course, let me connect you to Scheduling.”

I got transferred to the Scheduling Department and the earliest they had available was January. It was mid-October. I wanted to tell her, “ma’am, if you think I have the wherewithal and gumption to last until January without finding out what the actual hell is happening with my breast, I’ve got half of the San Francisco Bridge available to sell.”

I didn’t. I just shook my head, thanked her and decided to take my search online. The best part or gem she imparted before I hung up was that even though they said I needed to have additional testing done, I would need a doctor’s order to have said testing done.

I’ll spare you my tirade about how inordinately difficult it is to get a hold of my doctor—save to say that I knew I’d be on my own for this one.

I figured I’d take it one step at a time and first try to secure a slot. The folks were at least kind enough to tell me what kind of test I needed to have done. Since I had that I could schedule my test then go about the pesky trouble of getting an order written.

It took me the entire morning and afternoon. I called every place in the network I could think of. They all had equally absurd dates available. I was getting more and more discouraged and desperate. Also, I couldn’t for the life of me understand how it is that the place that tells you that you need further testing doesn’t have a way to accommodate said testing, since you are supposed to get it done right away. Seems like a flawed system if you ask me.

On a prayer, I decided to look outside of the network and just look up standalone radiology facilities. And thank merciful Christ, I found one that could see me in a week. I figured that would give me enough time to get a doctor’s order.

With the biggest hurdle out of the way, I went back through my network to schedule a primary care appointment. Wasn’t having much luck there either. But in my search, an option caught my eye. The name was a bit on the nose, but I figured I had nothing to lose. I prayed to God it wasn’t some sort of omen and gave them a call.

“Hi, how are you?”

“Fine thank you, how about yourself?”

“I’m all right. I’m calling with an unusual request. I had my first mammogram done a little while back and they found something. They want me to have more tests done, but I can’t get a hold of my primary care physician. Is that something you can do there? Write me an order for a more detailed scan?”

“Well, we can, but you have to be one of our patients.”

My heart sank.

“How about you come in and see our nurse practitioner? We can pull your details from the system. She’ll meet with you and then she can write you an order. Would that work?”

My eyes watered in gratitude.

“Yes, yes, oh, that would be great, thank you!”

She scheduled me for later that week and I at least felt a sense of relief that at least I would be getting an order. As far as what that test would reveal, well that was a tomorrow problem.

I was giving hubby a blow-by-blow that day on setting the appointment and then scheduling to get the doctor’s order. His face looked how I felt: half relieved and half worried.

The days flew incredibly fast, all things considered, then it was the morning for me to head in for my intake with the nurse practitioner.

I said a secret prayer the entire time there and as we walked up to the facility that this wasn’t some type of self-fulfilling prophecy. I prayed it with every fiber in my being that I wasn’t somehow bringing something on myself just by choosing this place to have my intake so I could have a doctor’s order. I didn’t have the heart to let hubby in on the name of the location. I figured if he saw it he saw it, if not, all the better.

He saw it. I could tell by how wide his eyes got when we walked up to the building.

“Breast Cancer Institute!?”

“They do other things here, Babe. It’s also for prevention.”

He only looked like he half-believed me, when he said, “oh, ok.”

“It’s the best I could do in short notice,” I said, while looking at him apologetically, really out of instinct and partly out of guilt, as if I’d somehow brought this on myself.

“You’re right, you’re right,” he said, as he squeezed my hand.

We both seemingly took a collective deep breath and walked inside.

The place was massive. It almost looked like a huge department store with several floors. There were signs everywhere to different wings and an escalator. We took the escalator to the third floor, signed in and waited to be called. We were escorted to one of the back rooms.

The nurse practitioner was really very nice. She was warm and kind and made me feel immediately at ease.

She asked me to undress from the waist up and then did a full breast exam. Afterwards, she gave me time to get dressed again and then came back in the exam room.

“I know you’re probably not feeling great right now, given the circumstances. So I’m going to walk you through what will happen next.”

We both nodded and waited for her to proceed.

“So you’re going to have more detailed imaging of your right breast. When you went for your screening mammogram, they applied pressure to both breasts, right? Well, this time, they’re going to apply more pressure and place your right breast under a microscope.

Now sometimes, it is just a matter of dense tissue and with the additional pressure, the tissue displaces and we find there’s no nodule.

But—if you think about the nodule as a marble. If it’s truly a nodule and not dense tissue, it’ll still be visible when the additional pressure is added.”

Great, just great.

“I will write an order for this test and include that they give you the results immediately.”

Thank Christ.

“If additional testing is needed, they will let you know then and there.”

Yay. I didn’t know whether I should be excited or relieved at that point.

“Do you have any questions for me?”

I shook my head no. I was more than slightly afraid that the lump in my throat would betray me and I’d start crying and I wanted to keep it together for hubby’s sake.

“Okay. I know you’re scared right now, but let’s take it one step at a time. We don’t know what we don’t know and if the worst should happen, it isn’t a death sentence.”

I appreciated that she too did not utter the C-word. I managed to mentally shove the lump down to the pit of my stomach and tell the inner me that was currently curled up in a ball that her pity party would just have to wait.

“Thank you. I really appreciate all your help.”

“No problem. If you have any questions whatsoever, please don’t hesitate to get back in touch.”

Hubby thanked her and we both walked out, back down the escalator, out to the parking lot and to our waiting vehicle. In complete silence.

I couldn’t help but wonder if he was thinking the same thing I was thinking.

Really? On top of everything else, now this? What, we don’t have enough shit to worry about?

Despite that, before we got in the car, he looked over at me and our eyes locked.

“It’s gonna be okay, you know that right?” he said as he looked at me.

Part of me wondered if what I saw in his eyes was faith or him waiting for me to tell him I believed the same.

“Yeah, I know. I know it’s gonna be okay, Babe.” I flashed him a big smile and held his gaze in mine.

He exhaled, then smiled, satisfied with my answer.

I also exhaled in relief as he got in the car. For that brief moment, when he was safely out of view, I looked up at the heavens and let out the loudest internal scream my heart could muster.

He didn’t have the slightest clue that I didn’t believe a single word I’d just told him.