Or as I lovingly refer to as “The Big Breast Oil Change”
It’s April 26th, the day of the bibobsy. I’m scheduled for 9:00 a.m. I’m to arrive at the hospital by 8:00 a.m. I have one of those sleepless nights, you know where you can’t sleep either from your mind racing or worry that you’ll oversleep. You look at the clock every hour on the hour. I wake up tired. Okay, I’ll admit it, I’m scared. Breasts and needles don’t go together in my book – I don’t have a phobia about needles but there was something about that combination that left me terrified. The unknown has my stomach in knots. I am so apprehensive of the procedure. I don’t know what they’re going to do to me or more specifically my breast!
The clinical description of the biopsy: It is a non-surgical alternative for breast biopsies – a core needle biopsy. The procedure lasts about an hour. You are to lay down on a cushioned table face down. The breast to biopsied will be exposed through an opening on the table. The table is elevated and the work is done beneath you. After the local anesthetic is injected into the skin of the breast, the breast tissue is compressed, just as in a mammogram. X-rays of the breast focusing on the abnormality are taken and transmitted to a computer screen. The radiologist examines the pictures and with the specially designed computer system, determines where the needle should enter the breast. Once the coordinates are set the radiologist triggers the biopsy device which holds the biopsy needle and it quickly, enters the breast and removes samples of the area of concern. A popping sound may be heard at this time. Usually five samples are obtained per area to be biopsied.
My description of the “Bibobsy”: My breast was getting an oil change!
Once at the hospital and the preliminaries were completed, I was brought into a room with a large rectangular table. I have a huge confession to make here: I didn’t read the information given to me on the procedure. I know, I know, shame on me. Let’s just say there was some denial going on – I just didn’t want to deal with it.
One thing I found throughout this journey was the communication I received every step of the way; (whether I wanted it or not!). Every procedure and treatment was thoroughly explained to me. I’m the type of person who doesn’t need or want specifics when it comes to medical procedures. Like childbirth – I was good with not knowing the specifics, I was even better at not watching the birth. I understand why it’s done, it does help with the fear. With that said – I’m still petrified.
The procedure is explained to me. I’m to disrobe (just the top), then climb up onto the table, lay face down then place my breast into a hole that’s in the middle of the table. Once I’m in “place”, the table will be raised and the doctor will sit underneath me and perform the biopsy. I was partially listening, as I was busy worrying about the dreaded “shot”. I remember thinking: did I just hear her correctly? I said, “Excuse me, but did you just say I was to put my breast through a hole on that table? She explains the procedure again. She did say that! Say what?!?
Several things pop into my head: First: Will the hole be large enough to accommodate my breast? Second: Just how high will this table go? But the predominant thought and image I can’t get out of my mind: OMG - My Breast is having an oil change! All types of images flash through my mind. Is the Doctor going to motion me onto the table like the attendant does at the Oil Change Shop, using hand motions to get me into the right spot? “No Carey move a little to the left, now come forward, slower, slower . . . that’s it – Stop.” I picture myself laying prone on the table, with my breast hanging down through a hole with the doctor is a blue overalls with the dipstick in his hand. I’m thinking to myself: Could this get any worse?!?
AND about that time it does get worse. In walks the doctor and just my luck he’s young and gorgeous. Think McDreamy – get the picture? I turn to the nurse and say “You’ve got to be kidding me!” She laughs, pats my hand and says “I know dear, I know.” It guess it somewhat helps that she understands my pain.
At this point, all fear and trepidation leave my mind and is replaced with one thought and one thought only “Why in the hell didn’t I lose that 50 pounds I’ve been meaning to lose!” Yep the day is heading down hill fast. Do the irony Gods have to reign on me today? I mean really, not only am I exposing my breasts to a room full of strangers, laying prone on a table with my breast through a hole – I get to have Dr. McDreamy do the procedure!
Once my shock has slightly worn off, I see that McDreamy looks quite young. Great, Doogie Howser is going to perform my biopsy! I ask Dr. Malik his age and he replies “I’m in my 40’s”. I look at him again (you know the look you give your children when you know they’re lying) and he says –“Early 40’s”. I give him one last look and he says “Okay just 40 but I did a fellowship at Harvard”. At least Doogie Howser is well trained so I’m feel more at ease.
