How This Could Have Gone

In the fall of 2009 I noticed some weirdness with Pancho. There was some leakage (technically "discharge" but that word creeps me out) so I mentioned it to my doc and she sent me for a mammogram just to be safe. During this time we were living in Charlottesville, VA -- 1,500 miles from "home" in Texas -- while BHE did his final round of med education. I was thirty one years old and felt like I had been given a free pass to observe the mysterious world of adult womanhood. I'm a sociologist by training and any chance to observe new and different things is exciting to me. In fact, I seriously considered focusing on the sociology of medicine for my master's degree. I ended up specializing in urban sociology and statistics instead but I never lost interest in medicine. So, walking into the Breast Care Center at the University of Virginia Hospital was like a field study in gendered medical treatment. I'd never been to such a place -- I felt nervous, excited, and guilty all at the same time. 

Here were women in various stages of breast cancer testing, diagnosis, treatment, and there I was just hanging out gawking because I casually mentioned some leakage to my PCP. The atmosphere was obviously designed to be calming and spa-like, as if any of us were tricked into feeling like we were actually at a spa. Although, given what I know now, I've come to appreciate the effort at that center. We each got a private little room so we could change into our pink half-robes. Then we had to sit in another waiting area just staring at each other, wondering what each of us were "in for." I was the youngest one there by far and I could feel each of the older women looking at me like I had just run over her puppy. I knew they were looking at me and thinking, "Poor girl. She's way too young to have breast cancer. What a shame." And I was thinking in response, "These poor women think I have breast cancer. I should tell them that I just have a little leakage. I'm basically here for the intellectual stimulation -- a field study." As different women were called back for imaging they looked at me and said things like "God bless" and "stay strong." I thought that was really kind but not needed. When it was my turn to go back I first met with the docs and told them why I was there. They asked questions like what color, is it clear, when did I notice it, etc. Then they took a look and made their own observations. They said there were traces of blood in the fluid. I know now that I should have had all kinds of bells and sirens going off in my head -- blood in the leakage is a big flashing warning sign. But, you know, I was just there for the experience. Next I had a mammogram. It was uncomfortable but not a big deal. It was my first one and I expected it to be horrible. I was pleasantly surprised that it wasn't. I went back to the exam room and the docs were there again. They said that the leakage could be caused by a benign mass called an intraductal papilloma in the milk duct. Or it could be worse. It could be cancer. Uh oh...they used the "C" word. It's cool. They didn't know that I was just there to observe. I knew it was nothing to worry about. They said my mammogram looked clear but they wanted to do a test called a ductogram where they would inject dye into the milk duct to see if there was anything there. I said that was fine (more observation!) and scheduled the procedure. They asked if there was any way that I could be pregnant and I said that I wasn't but that we'd been trying. They couldn't do the test if I was pregnant so on the way home that day I grabbed at test from Walgreens. The whole pregnancy deal was a sensitive subject for BHE and me since our first two pregnancies were miscarriages. We'd finally had our sweet boy CB and were trying for #2 at this point. It had been six months already -- six negative tests -- so I just expected the same for this new one. I was actually a little annoyed that I even had to go through the whole negative pregnancy test thing again before they would do the ductogram. I went home and absentmindedly did the test, playing with CB while waiting the three minutes for the result. BHE was in the next room on the phone talking work stuff with a friend when I checked the test. It was positive! I was stunned. I walked over to BHE, showed him the test, then sat on the stairs and waited for his shock to join mine. We still waited for an ultrasound confirmation before we actually believed it, but once we saw that strong little heartbeat we accepted the fact that I was actually pregnant. I called the breast center and told them the news and they cancelled the ductogram with instructions to return after I had the baby and was done nursing *if* the leakage was still there. That next spring we were blessed with our sweet baby girl, SJ, and all the drama with the breast stuff was just a distant memory. The leakage never did return so I just filed that away in my mental, "Huh, that was weird..." folder. 

Looking back now, that leakage could very well have been the beginning of this cancer, not that we'll ever know. Had SJ not been already forming, had I not cancelled the ductogram, had we not just chalked that whole breast ordeal up to nothing, our life today might be much different. Had they found what they suspected, I might have ended up with this same surgery, the same meds, and the inability to pursue a second child until much later (if ever). It would have been devastating in so many ways. We were across the country from our family, BHE was working all the time, and we were scraping by on a med fellow's salary. I can't imagine dealing with this back then. 

Another thing for the "weird" folder...last Fall BHE was asked to go on a trip to El Salvador to help provide fresh water wells. He would travel the first week in June, one month from now. Usually I would wholeheartedly endorse such a trip. It's exactly the kind of thing that I would get passionate about. This time though I had huge, unexplained reservations. BHE and I have both always had a sincere passion for helping people in impoverished areas and we've done smaller trips and projects like this together before. This time though, as soon as BHE told me about the opportunity, I shot it down. BHE was taken aback. I was even surprised by my response. I couldn't articulate why I felt he shouldn't go but I just knew that he shouldn't. My feelings were in complete opposition to our values and priorities but I still refused to back down. BHE was the first one to say something the week after my surgery. "Do you remember how adamant you were that I not go to El Salvador and we didn't know why?" We looked at each other with watery eyes. Was that God protecting us? Preparing us for what was coming? Was it Him saying, "This isn't your trip. Not now. You'll need to be home"? My answer: I have no idea. It really feels like that though. 

My point in all of this is that even in the face of cancer, God is near. He's using this to change me. I've gained understanding of things that I didn't have before. I've gained new connections, new relationships, new appreciations. I've learned that it's okay to be vulnerable and to let people help. I've learned how to better help others when they face similar things. And I've learned that there are others going through much, much worse than this. If this is the toughest thing we ever face it will be a pretty easy life.