My mother has had problems for years with her breasts. Several scares, biopsy's things not so pleasant.
I went with her yesterday and I experienced unexpected emotions. I was all over the place. I hate hospitals just like most citizens of the United States of America but the other thing that first struck me, is that for years she has done this on her own. Scared, in a stuffy old sterile place, paper gown, waiting...
I also felt this over whelming sense of sisterhood as the women marched out, sat listening to the cheesy elevator music and nervously waited in the dimly lit changing area for their names to be called. It were as if they literally shed their individuality and petty little every day problems when they removed their shirts off and united this common experience.
I had no nails left by the time I left. I wasn't allowed access when they did her mammogram because of the radiation, but they did let me go in while they ultra sounded each breast.
It was so quiet and awkward... I had no idea what I was looking at staring at that screen, but every time that girl marked a dark mass, I held my breath. One was 2 cm, 3 cm, I believe the largest was 5.
Then more waiting. Which I guess, was good news because they sent the ultra sound girl back with the news rather than the big guy. The paper she handed her reported they'd found several questionable areas they believed to be benign but wanted to watch just to be sure they remained unchanged which left me confused since they told her she had A typical cells and needed to be watched, wasn't there more urgency towards my mother and her breasts?
How many other women live this life, how many families play this sick waiting game? Or worse, how many of these women suffer in silence?