The call comes at the end of the day, from the nice nurse who kept me from screaming during my MRI.
“They saw some things in your right breast, ” she says.
I don’t hear much after that.
“I know you’re moving, and I tried to get you all the appointments in one day, but it was impossible,” the nurse is saying. “I told them we have to get these tests ASAP.”
Through the buzzing in my ears, I try to speak. I think I’m sounding brave. I don’t know. The nurse is SO nice. I have no idea what’s she’s saying.
More tests next week: A mammogram and ultrasound the morning of Tuesday, August 3. Then an MRI-guided biopsy on Wednesday, August 4. Yes, a doctor will do the biopsy, a radiologist. He’ll do it by hand. You’ll be in and out of the MRI, a few minutes each time. They saw some sort of mass. She’s says it’s a good sort of mass, or -toma something, but what, I don’t hear. She says it’s good they said it was a good mass, right on the report. I guess I’ll need to ask for a copy of the report later.
I thank her. I think I thank her. Then I hang up. Then I cry.
I felt so triumphant for surviving the MRI. In breast cancer, it seems, you surmount one hurdle. Then you face another. This is only the beginning. How can this only be the beginning? It seems like it’s been going on forever.