(Left: Karen Dec, M.D., the doctor who performed my biopsy)
The day of my biopsy arrived. I had spent the previous three nights having nightmares about it. Three days before, I had been shown the exam table and room where the biopsy would be performed and I'd read about it on the Internet. I comforted myself with prayer. I was as scared as I've ever been.
My husband accompanied me to the appointment, of course. Knowing that he would be in the waiting room praying for me while the biopsy was done was very comforting to me.
When my name was called, we both entered the exam room and sat down. We met the doctor who would be doing the biopsy, a woman with shoulder-length, blonde hair. She was very friendly and even a little vivacious. Without the white lab coat, she could have been an aging flower child from the 60s. :~)
She made me feel at ease right away with her down-to-earth attitude and "normalcy" about the whole thing. A real switch from the radiologist I'd seen a few days before during the ultrasound!
She explained what was going to happen and said that a small, titanium marker would be injected at the site of the tumor. If the tumor was benign, it would help the area stand out in future mammograms. If it was cancerous, it would help the surgeon find the tumor more easily. (I later found out that wasn't exactly the case.)
The doctor suggested that I might want to get a book called, "Dr. Susan Love's Breast Book," which I later learned is like the "Bible" for all things pertaining to the breast. My husband wrote down the title so I wouldn't forget it. (More on the book later.)
My husband left the room and the assistant began to prepare me for the stereotactic biopsy. Since I don't know who will be reading this, I won't go into graphic detail. I will mention that I was asked to lie face-down on a table with a large hole in it (you can guess the logistics on your own). For those of you who are curious types, you can read about the procedure here.
The area was numbed with two shots. The first was like a bee-sting. The second, much deeper, was unexpected and about sent me jumping off the table. It was the only part of the experience where I experienced any "pain" and it didn't last very long (a couple of seconds).
However, since I had moved when the shot was given, the assistant and the doctor had to re-do all of the settings with the machine to make sure they still had a good view of the area.
The biopsy itself only took a few minutes. The doctor said that I would hear a "pop" (which sounded like a little pop-gun shooting). I assumed this was when the titanium marker was directed into the tumor site. Thankfully, I couldn't see what was happening, as I had my face turned toward the wall.
I could hear sounds like a miniature vacuum and assume that is when the specimens from the tumor were being extracted. I felt nothing. The doctor told me that I was "doing great" and that they were almost finished.
A couple minutes later, the doctor said we were finished and that she would be back to see me after I was dressed. Her assistant cleaned and bandaged me and left the room so I could dress.
When the doctor returned, she gave me a sheet of instructions for after-biopsy care and handed me a pink rose with baby's breath wrapped in some tissue paper. I appreciated the gesture, but have to admit that it didn't do much to alleviate the anxiety and stress of what I had just been through.
(At the risk of sounding like a complete ingrate, I didn't even bother to put it in water when I got home. Just looking at it reminded me of something that I wanted to forget. I let it sit around for a couple of days and then threw it out.)
After the biopsy, I went into research mode and started reading about breast cancer on the Internet. I just didn't want to be blindsided by anything unexpected. I found out later that this tendency of mine to methodically gather facts was perceived as going into "panic mode" by my husband. Just different ways of handling things, I guess.