The Girl with Broken Lady Bits…

“You need to get early mammograms, Candace.”

That’s what my oncologist said to me last Spring. Being only 30 something {cough}…ish, this was a swift kick to my womanly self-esteem and to the jubblies. Since my southern lady bits were angry with the world and required an eviction notice, (due to a uterine cancer scare) it is protocol that I commence the boobie smashing earlier versus later.

So I sat on it. I stared at the script for the mammogram for months while it sat on my desk. I know, you’re probably giving me the mental head shake of disappointment. Trust me, I have been given a thorough lecture by Mr. Chris.

I guess where I am at with this is I’m just tired of doctors. Over the past 8 years my beaver-housen has seen and has been seen by more doctors than I care to count. More so, I am tired of my broken plumbing always being… broken. I already feel like my body failed me in so many ways. Although it didn’t strip me of motherhood entirely, it did rob me of ever experiencing pregnancy. So I tucked that script away and ignored it even if it was a neon flashing light of my past health woes.

 

I successfully pushed the looming mammogram out of my  mind until just recently.

 

Perhaps it was unrecognized fear, but I had to take a deep breath before I picked up the phone to make that call. The process was actually easy. I called, they fit me in on a Saturday which worked great for me and in I went. Ironically, my aunt had her mammogram scheduled on the same day and nearly the same time. She also went through years of infertility… (more on that in another post.) and in that moment as I sat there in the waiting room in a gown alongside her I felt oddly reflective of where I had been, where I was and what the future may hold with my long term health.

I go in the exam room. The actual mammogram was not how I envisioned it. I thought it would be painful and invasive, just like my infertility journey. Instead it was simple. Place boob here, the tech would position what little boob I have onto the machine and the machine would press it like a panini maker. Now, don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t a gentle loving caress of the twins by any means, but compared to an endometrial biopsy without numbing agent, this was Disneyland … on Ice … with sparklers and mimosas.

I went home and forgot about the mammogram. Again, perhaps an unhealthy coping mechanism I am sure, but no need to worry I reassured myself. Until I got the call. “Candace you’ll need to come back for some additional more invasive scans we found something on your left breast that we want to check into further.”

Shit. I thought to myself. I put off this exam for far too long and now there could possibly be something actually wrong. I began to feel guilty. It was wrong and not fair to Chris, more so it was not fair to Jellybean for me to put my health on the backburner. A flood of thoughts washed over me and I got a sinking feeling. I’m not sure if there is a female version of the word “emasculation” but that is how I felt, almost androgynous. I had broken lady bits below the belt and now possible issues with my breasts. What if this wasn’t just a second test? What if I have developed breast cancer and had to get a mastectomy? I would be missing a uterus and breasts. Would I feel somewhat of an ‘A’ sexual as a result? What would then define me as a woman? All of these things raced through my mind as I scheduled my next appointment for more invasive scans.

Chris

Wow! You know the amazing thing about this is that I had no idea how Candace really felt about her scans until I read this. I just assumed, lazily, that she had trepidation because she has some family members that had breast cancer. I didn’t even consider the idea that this was another attack on her feminine character. I think Candace and I have really good lines of communication, but it seems there is something to be said for expressing yourself in writing. Thank you Candace for many things; being brave enough to continue sharing your story and your struggle, for deciding to make taking care of yourself the necessary priority it is, but most of all, for being patient with your Cro-Magnon-minded, albeit incredibly good looking and witty, husband who sat next to you and talked to you about this very thing and really had no idea how you felt.

One thing is for sure, Candace and I seem to have mastered two things: finding ourselves in somewhat deep waters-medically speaking and knowing that the best wade to get through to the other side is to keep a level head and wait for all of the facts to roll in. Candace was my rock when I was going through my brain tumor surgeries and I have had the opportunity to return the favor over nearly the last decade as she has been poked and prodded battling infertility. So, to the latest medical storm that may be coming our way, we say this, “Bring it!”

Hey you, yes you, the one that just stumbled across our blog… We’ve been there and would love to connect. Email us anytime or stop by our Facebook page for a little #IF encouragement.