Peace of Mind Comes in the Mail

Because everything is about my boobs now.

The results came back on Monday and SURPRISE! The ultrasound tech never even looked at or clicked a picture of anything on the left side.

They said the concern in the right side was a 5mm nodule in a lymph node with non-cancerous characteristics and ‘nothing to be concerned about’ unless it changes. I’m not sure what that means – I have would have no way of knowing if it changes since I never knew it was there to begin with..

Tomorrow morning at 9:30, I’ll start the whole thing over again at a different facility so as not to run into the same pleasant ultrasound tech as last time.. and my boobs have never been happier. No really.

Wordless Wednesday (or) I Blame His Father.

"Whatever Comes Next"

So, I went and had a mammogram:

(Me, patiently waiting for my mammogram)

Because I found a lump in my left breast: the left one.

The first thing I learned was that although they schedule you for an ultrasound, you aren’t getting one unless something is wrong.

“I have an appointment at 10 for a bilateral mammogram and an ultrasound.”

“Ok – I please fill this out. So you know, they will most likely only perform the mammogram; we only schedule you for an ultrasound if we see something concerning. We just make sure you have enough time allotted in case something is wrong”.

**Note to front desk girl: please refrain from using “in case something is wrong” when speaking with women checking in for their mammogram.**

The squish-your-boobs-machine wasn’t horrible. I prayed a lot. I thought about how much worse being engorged with gallons of milk felt. I thanked God for having a very nice tech who obviously knows how intimidating the squish-your-boobs-machine can be. I babbled. I told her all about how J.D. took me to a prom and got me a tattoo for my 30th birthday because I didn’t want to feel old. I bit my cheek to shut myself up.

Eventually, the tech left the room, came back, left the room again, and came back.

“We are going to try again to get that lump in another picture, and the radiologist just wants a few more shots of that right side.”

“Left. It’s on the left. The lump is right here – on the left side.”

“No, the right. He just wants some shots of the right.”

“oh. ok.”

So I did as I was told, discovered something called ‘the cleavage hold’ that would have been a really popular bar trick back in the day, and posed for a few more shots of boob #2.

“Just go ahead and stay right here – I’ll either come back in to take more pictures or I’ll come back in to take you to an ultrasound. He’ll more than likely ask for the ultrasound – its very difficult to get that lump in a picture, and he’ll want to take a closer look at that right side.”

“lef.. ultrasound?”

“Hm?”

“nothing.” (something is wrong, then, right? That’s what he girl said, right?)

So she left and came back and said “yes, we’re going to go ahead and take you over to ultrasound. How do you feel about sitting in a waiting room with men while you’re wearing the gown? Do you want a more private place to wait?”

“No. Hey, so, is this the part where you tell me not to jump to conclusions or worry?”

And then she did that stupid honest smile. The one that you carefully practice that specifically means nothing, so that later, if something is wrong, the person on the receiving end doesn’t feel like you lied to them.

I sat in the waiting room listening to a woman talk to another woman about her bone scan, and a man talk to his kids on his cell phone. “We’ll be home as fast as we can – me and mom are taking care of something and then we’ll go out and have junk food”. The tech came and moved me to the ultrasound waiting room where I listened to a nurse talk about her daughters’ birthday party and I watched Dora The Explorer on the the T.V.

Ultrasound tech: "HI ARE YOU SHERRI? HOWAREYOU I’LL BE DOING YOUR ULTRASOUNDFOLLOWME." I already didn’t like her.

“So you have one lump on your left that you can feel and an area on the right, right? We’ll be just looking at the right side. An area is all. Ok? Uh HUH! OK.”

She spent a few seconds looking for the lump with the wand and said “you’ll have to point to it”.

“It’s right h-”

“Just point to it with one finger”.

*point*

*pokes me with the wand* “ok!” and moves on the the ‘area’ on the right, where she spent a good 10 minutes with her wand and a ruler – clicking her mouse and typing and clicking. “OK! Stay here and I’ll be back!” and she was gone.

She came back, stared at her paperwork, signed something, and said “He wants me to tell you that we don’t see anything suspicious were you think you found a lump, and you need to follow up with your doctor.” and hands me a check out paper.

“But so what is it then? That’s normal? And what’s on the right? What now? What happens next?”

“He wants me to tell you that we don’t see anything suspicious were you think you found a lump. And that you need to follow up with your doctor.”

“Where I *think* I feel a lump? But you feel it, right? It’s there. I feel it and my husband feels it and my mom and the other lady- she felt it. I don’t have a doctor. What do I do next? What’s on the right side?”

“Sometimes your breast tissue changes and you think you feel something. You’ll need to follow up with your doctor.”

“That’s not regular breast tissue. Where you able to see anything on the ultrasound?”

“He wants me to tell you that we don’t see anything suspicious were you think you found a lump. And you need to follow up with your doctor.”

“I DON’T HAVE A FRICKIN DOCTOR.”

So that’s that. Needless to say, I was a bit frazzled and slightly homicidal when I left there – but I feel better because I tracked down the ‘what to do next’ portion..

Tomorrow, Sarah from the Cancer Center will call me and we will go over what the notes in the system say together- and do whatever comes next. If it means going in for another ultrasound and having someone actually look at the left side, I’ll do that. If it means a biopsy, I’ll do that. If it means [fill in the blank] on the right side, I’ll do that. So ‘whatever comes next’ is the plan.

Ridiculously, if I did have insurance (and a doctor) this part would take 2 weeks – as it is, I only had to wait out the weekend.

P.S. Have you squeezed your boobies today?

We Take Care Of You

“Hello?”
"Yes, hello. Is this Mrs. Darley?"
“Yes.” Great. A telemarketer.
"Mrs. Darley? Did you get an order from your doctor recently for a medical exam?"
“Yes.” What? Why did you answer that question? Now you’re stuck. Wow, she’s good. Totally tricked me with a surprise question.
"Mrs. Darley? Mrs. Darley, did your doctor recommend that you have a mammogram? Do you have paperwork that says that she thinks you need a mammogram?"
“Um. Yes.” Strangers asking me about my boobs is weird. Why am I still talking to this person? How do they know to ask these questions? What’s g..
"Mrs. Darley? Do you have medical insurance right now?"
"No. What do you wa..”
"Mrs. Darley? We are taking care of all of this for you. I don’t want you to worry. We’re going to pay for that and whatever comes next. You don’t have to worry."
” ..wh.. Why? What?”
"Mrs. Darley, I’m calling from Seton. We are the Austin Cancer Center. We take care of you. We are going to pay for a bilateral mammogram and ultrasound exam, and whatever comes next. Whether that means a biopsy or more tests – whatever comes next, we will take care of you. Can you fax me that order from your doctor? As soon as I get it, I can set your appointment up. Is next week too long to wait?"
“Oh. Oh my God. Wow. Thank you. I was just.. I thought that we couldn’t – and in Canada *hiccup* they can – and it’s really *gasp* really expensive – and I was *hiccup* afraid that – because my mom. She had – and I’m *crack* I’ve just been so - *sob sob sob sob* and I *sob* – thank you.”
"Mrs. Darley? We’re going to take care of you. I don’t want you to worry. It’s ok to be afraid – just don’t worry."
..And there you have it. My appointment is on Friday, October 2nd at 10 am. Just like that.
I’m afraid. I admit it – but I am not worried about how to pay for results I don’t want. I know me well enough to know that I would have talked myself out of the appointment all together if I had to figure out where to come up with over a thousand dollars – just to check if something is wrong (I know – that is ridiculously stupid, but welcome to a family of 7 and only one ‘real’ job).

Family: Don't freak out.

You know how sometimes I don't really put things delicatley, and I just blurt stuff out?

I found a lump in my left breast. BUT I went the doctor, like your supposed to.

She said “I am not overly worried, but with such a family history of cancer, I want you to have a mammogram”.

That’s verbatim. I quote her, because I have dissected what she said and how she said it over and over and over again, looking for more or less or something else. I know there’s nothing else, she’s always been very honest with me and she never dulls anything down so as not to freak me out. She knows I’ll freak out anyway. She knows that there isn’t anything she could possibly tell me that is worse that what I make up in my head when I don’t have her quotes to obsess about.
It’s probably nothing, because if it were something, she would have just said “You need to get a mammogram” or “I’m concerned” because that’s ok for a doctor to say. That’s their job.Right?

“I am not overly worried, but with such a strong family history, I want you to have a mammogram” and then “Ohh. You are self-pay. Hmm.” because YAY: No insurance. and then “don’t let not having insurance deter you from having this done. This is important.” Great.

So this morning, I’m online searching for programs that offer mammograms to those of us that cannot pay $300-$500 to have one and $230-$400 to have the results read. Only in this case, “searching for programs that offer mammograms” equals “writing blog posts that will freak out your family”.

Jack thinks Billy is rediculously funny..

So - It turns out I'm a crochet...er

See?!
I'd take a picture of it all spread out, but then you would see that it is not, in fact 'square' in the traditional sense, and then I would have to make something up about how I did that on purpose because it's a statement about how The Man can't hold me down or make rules for a girl like me, and then I would burn my bra, and no one wants that. Trust me.

Blankies & Veggies

Well I have been busy, y'all.

A few weeks ago, Billy and I decided we needed a project, so we decided to teach ourselves how to knit. We watched every YouTube video we could get our eyeballs on a went and bought Knitting & Crocheting for Dummies and went to work. the outcome has been pretty cool - he has made himself a new fancy iPod case and I am working on potholders, headbands, tiny hats (that started out as potholders) and 2 different baby blankies. Plus, I went and raided the local thrift store and bought 4 big bags of yarn in beautiful colors and textures, so this is all costing me about ten bucks. (Pictures coming soon!)

Speaking of saving moola, we have been shopping the local Farmers Market every Saturday morning and saving TONS. Once a week we come home with 2 or 3 full green bags full to the brim with yellow, spaghetti and summer squash, zucchini, tomatoes, snap peas, black eyed peas, potatoes, carrots and cucumbers and we have never spent for than $15. For a family of seven that is HUGE.

Anyhoo - that is the awesomeness that is our summer so far - blankies and veggies - WOOT!

Stick Families

I love Mother’s Day. I love the handmade, homemade cards with pictures of mommies with stick-person babies and round kids with too-long legs and too-short hair living in square houses and smiling half-circle smiles. I love the cards. I look forward to them every year and I save them all in a big jumbley stack.

Someday I will put them all in plastic notebook sleeves and even label them with kid-names and ages and put them all in order by kid, then year; but that day is far, far away because, well, I have kids. Lots and lots of kids.

When people ask me how many kids I have I say “We have five” without missing a beat. Every once in awhile, I will offer the explanation of how he had two and I had two and then we had another one, but that usually leads having to listen to all the reasons why they did or did not like Eight Is Enough and/or The Brady Bunch and inevitably, them saying “Hey! Now you just need one more so it can be two and two and two!!” because apparently families work best and are complete when they are mathematically balanced. More often than not, though, I say “We have five” and leave it at that.

I know by experience that sometimes 'combined' or 'blended' families feel scattered and confusing like a giant pile of mismatched socks. That oftentimes there is separation and distinction, making the kids feel like they must identify themselves with their differences; displayed their separateness before their similarities – and in the end, do in fact become separate.

But I glow when asked how many kids I have. I beam. I swell. We have five. All five of them stack up perfectly. They all match. They’re made out of tiny pieces all of us and of each other and we’re all glued together (in our triangle dresses and orange yarn hair) and I thank God daily for every extra minute we get to share together.
Someday, I’ll sit with a giant, nicely-organized binder full of all my Construction Paper Mother’s Day cards in their pretty flat plastic sleeves (in order of kid and year, no less) and I’ll show them all off to all my hundreds of grandkids. I’ll pull each card out one by one and we will reattach each taped-on heart and glued-on button that didn’t make it through the years. I’ll tell them all the stories about their mommies and daddies that I promised never to tell and show them all the embarrassing haircut pictures that they think I threw away.

And eventually, I will make sure they all know how some families are built with construction paper and Elmer’s glue, and that even though our buttons might fall off and our yarn hair might get fuzzy – we absolutely must stay stuck to each other.

Happy late Mother’s Day, mommies – may your Popsicle sticks never be splintery.

Stubborn

I visited the crisis center today. I signed up to be a real official volunteer (with a letter of recommendation and background check and everything) and then freaked myself out and didn’t go back for two weeks.

Today I had an overwhelming need to barge in there and just sit on their couch, so I did. The lady who runs the place hugged me and handed me a water bottle, like she’d been standing there waiting for me all day. She never asked where I’ve been or why I didn’t show up at the board meeting, just hugged me and said she was glad I came. I left feeling recharged and appreciated, and I didn’t even do anything. I’m supposed to be there, I know. I’ll stop fighting it soon, I’m almost certain.

Did I tell you I’m kinda stubborn?

32

32.
Thirty-two.
Thurteeeeee. Toooooo.

That used to be what old people were, remember? Remember when we were young and thought about our parents ages and how we would look and act and talk when (and if) we were that age?

And remember how we figured we would be flying cars and eating our meals in capsule-form and be movie stars and millionaires and have a vacation home on the moon (or Gilligan’s Island)?

So far – I married my best friend, had another baby, quit drinking, joined a church, got pierced, quit smoking, got baptized, ditched a career I hated, got another tattoo, opened my own business, unpierced myself – I even went to the prom. And for the most part, in that order.

I like my life. I love my life, really. Apparently that happened in my thirties too – so it’s about time I got to 32 – aparently it’s been waiting for me for like, ever.

Thank you, God for our healthy babies.

After watching Heather & Mike’s unspeakable tragedy unfold and knowing that the world will not be the same after their precious baby Maddie has left it – I have no other words but to thank God for our five healthy and strong kids.
“Ye have lost a child–nay, she is not lost to you, who is found to Christ; she is not sent away, but only sent before; like unto a star, which going out of our sight, doth not die and vanish, but shineth in another hemisphere.” -Samuel Rutherford

Sleep sweet, baby Maddie.

Foreheads, Republicans & Singing Doctors

Where have I been?

Hiring a lawyer: Yay for custody battles! This appears to be going ok-ish, although my Republican, Bush-loving, animal-heads-mounted-on-his-walls, nervous-twitch-having lawyer kept smacking himself on the butt and telling us that he has a birthmark “RIGHT.THERE” that matches the one on Jack’s forehead. I think he is on drugs. He is a very nice man.

At the doctors office: My poor, poor, pitiful Bella was in line, walking to the bus after school when her “legs tangled” and she fell, face-first onto the pavement. Apparently, her “arms were busy falling” (direct quote from her) so they weren't able to catch her and she broke her defenseless, minding-it’s-own-business, perky little nose. She also bit through her upper lip, got a big purple goose-egg on her head, and skinned both knees and an elbow. Bruises are spreading across her nose and under both eyes, and her lip is turning yellow to match the hue of the lump in the middle of her forehead. We are sure to become the talk of the town (or at least the talk of the crazy ladies at the bus-stop). Bonus: The doctor sang an off-key “We Will Rock You” to Bella after she finished peroxide-ing her wounds and sopping blood and mud from her nose. I love our doctor.

Sleeping!!: Jack has graced us with 8 long hours of wonderful, uninterrupted, fabulous sleep every night!! This is a beautiful, beautiful thing and I have caught myself more than once almost waking him up to nuzzle and snuggle and thank the slobber right out of him.

Dear Kid:

Billy-

We’ve been doing this for 12 years – can you believe it? You and me kid - we started this story 12 years ago today.

Thank you for being my rock and my strength and my soul. I would have never made it without you. Happy Birthday, baby.

-Mom