Pink Story: Biopsy and a Road

They showed us the room where they would do the biopsy.  They told us it wouldn’t take very long, 90 minutes total, but the actual biopsy takes just a few minutes.  They explained how I would lie on the table on my stomach.  They explained that they would insert a needle to take a piece out so they could examine it.  They asked if we had any questions.  It’s difficult to have questions about something you know nothing about.  True, I knew nothing, but I also didn’t know what I didn’t know.  I couldn’t think of any questions.  We scheduled the biopsy for Friday, September 28th.  Again, I wouldn’t have to take the day off of school.

My brain knows this happens to women all the time.  My brain knows that much of the time it is nothing.  My mom had to have two biopsies, both times-nothing.  I know this.  I regularly remind myself of this.  It doesn’t matter what my brain knows though.  My mind is racing.  What is going to happen?  What if they find something bad?  Doctor’s tend to try to make things sound better than they are.  Do they know that this is something bad, but aren’t telling me because they don’t have proof yet?  I’ve never had surgery before.  I can’t believe I have to have surgery!  It will probably be fine, but it might not be fine.  Its no big deal, nothing’s wrong yet, but what if something is?

I had to reflect on what my life looked like at this point.  What was before me?  What was I going to do?  How was I going to convince myself that I could do this, that I could survive anything that may or may not be coming?   I began viewing our paths in life like highways and freeways with exits.

There are many paths before us in our lives.  Some we choose to go down, some we are

forced down.  When I went into the doctor for my yearly mammogram I was still on the freeway.  This is normal, nothing is unique about my actions.  When I was called in for the second mammogram I was forced off the freeway onto an exit that is used sometimes, but no one chooses that exit.  I was watching and waiting for a sign that would direct me back to the freeway.  Yesterday, I lost hope of that sign for now and was instead forced farther down the road no one chooses to travel.  The freeway is farther away now and I hold onto the hope that there still may be a sign showing me how to get back.  There is nothing wrong with this road as of now, but if I remain on it too long the pavement turns to gravel and makes the trip much more difficult.  Now, there is still hope of turning back.  I cling to that hope.