I’ve started this post about 5 different times, because I’m really not sure how to write it.  I struggle sometimes with what’s too personal to put out on the Internet, even if I’m not writing under my real name.  Some things are completely off limits – private conversations (duh), many things about my relationship with my boy, and some other thoughts and fears I toss around.  I understand and respect that people have different comfort levels with what they put out on the Internet, but for me, I’m a private and quiet person normally.  I like to think that generally carries over to this blog as well.

But this issue is important.  And I’m passionate about it.  Boobs.  And the education for women about how to take care of our boobs.  Because they are important.  And we should love them.

About a month and a half ago now, I felt something.  You know…something that wasn’t supposed to be there.  I didn’t freak, because it hurt.  I’ve heard that the bad stuff doesn’t hurt.  However, my grandmother had a grapefruit sized cyst removed from her breast several years ago, and my aunt had breast cancer (and a subsequent mastectomy and chemo) a few years ago.  Both are doing well, but duh, I realize that I don’t get to fool around.  I went to my yearly girly doctor appointment, mentioned the issue, and was sent for a mammogram and ultrasound.

You’d think I’d be scared, right?  I mean, these are big things.  Women are recommended to get their baseline mammogram at age 40, but here I am, 30 with a specific problem spot – but I wasn’t.  It felt aggressive.  It all happened on the same day.  I liked that.  It was being taken seriously.  That’s important to me.  You know what bothered me most about the whole thing?  The person that did my ultrasound was a man.  Yeah, yeah, he’s a trained professional, blah blah blah…but the fact that he was a man was still the worst part.  The actual mammogram part made me laugh.   I know women complain mightily about it, but my mom and godmother have said for years it wasn’t that bad.  So I actually was more amused by the whole mammogram process than anything.  I felt like such a piece of meat.  I wanted to laugh.

So I haven’t been scared, or worried, because I really believed that it wasn’t anything terrible.  Today my doctor called me with the results.  All the bad possibilities have been ruled out.   So no odd masses that are raising any of the big, bad concerns.  However, there’s still a spot that has now been ruled as ‘ductal prominence’ and the whole issue of pain which isn’t normal.  These are not life threatening issues, and  all of the possibilities generally can’t be picked up on a mammogram. Thus, I’m getting referred out to a breast surgeon to figure out what’s going on.  I’ve heard of women getting infections in their ducts before, or blockages, and my doctor said that sometimes women can get abscesses that can’t/don’t drain for whatever reason.  And that’s disgusting.  But it’s all treatable.

You know what my doctor said that freaked me out most? Yup…”I want to refer you to a breast surgeon, and have him do a consultation because he specializes in specific breast problems.”  HIM?  HE?  Come on!!!

I know.  I’m such a baby.

This isn’t a bad post.  All is well in the world, I’m still not worried/scared/freaked (I mean, yes, I’m concerned but that’s different), but there’s an important message to be learned from this:

It’s important.