The first time I felt a lump, my throat dropped to my stomach. I tried to ignore it. It’ll go away, I thought to myself. Days later I felt another one and another. I thought about my great aunt. The chemo she endured. The double mastectomy. The hair loss. After ignoring it for as long as I could, I called my doctor and made an appointment. 

I have lumps.

Yea? Lets check them out. My doctor, always so cheerful and happy and smiling. We often laugh and joke like old friends. As she began her examination, me with my arm thrown overhead watching her eagerly – her face changed.  The smile was replaced by a frown. An actual frown. Her forehead knotted up and her mouth set in a grim line. It was as if the most descriptive book I’d ever read had come to life in her face. I silently wished that she would realize and error and the smile and easy eyes would return. But it never did. 

And it scared me. 

Maybe doctors don’t realize that that instant face change is enough to feel your world shake. 

Well there’s definitely some masses here. And here. And here. And here. Let me check the other side. 

4.  I had only counted 2, maybe 3.

There’s more here and here. 

I’m sure the fear registered on my voice. We went through more routine questions. And I was sent for an ultrasound. 

Every few months, more cysts pop up while others fade away. I’ve been 3 times to the doctor to ensure they aren’t harmful. As I sit in lobby of a Breast Cancer center, waiting to have one drained, I notice the other women. 

They give us fuschia tops to wear and sit us in a room with foggy windows. The women avoid eye contact and the only sound is the hum of the a.c.  Solemn faces fight to concentrate on phones, newspapers, books. It’s a dreary room with us sitting in a puke worthy uniform.