On Saturday, March 17th, the day of Irish luck, I had my three year post mastectomy and reconstruction scans. While my surgery wasn't until the month of June of 2015, I felt like I needed to get my check up slightly early due to some pain and burning sensations I've been having in my chest. So, I was lined up for the fully gamut of tests...MRI, mammogram and ultrasound. Enter stress and anxiety.
MRI
Let's flashback to 2013, which was my last MRI I thought I'd ever have, ever. It was the beginning of the end when it comes to anxiety and claustrophobia. I'd had MRI's before, as part of my surveillance, but something about this one was different. I have no idea why I began to panic inside the tunnels. Not sure if it was the constant clanking and banging noises, if it was because I was face down and couldn't see for so long, or if I was just plain scared, but I panicked during that one, unable to continue, stopping the scan early, and that was the end of them, or so I thought.
I'm now 3 years post mastectomy and reconstruction, so it is needed to check on residual tissue as well as the implant integrity. This time, I took a Xanax 30 minutes before entering the tunnel. I was positioned and ready in the tunnel, where they then inserted the port for the dye, since I have a high fear of needles. Well, apparently my vein jumped and she missed, causing a lot of pain, and a mess. She then tried for my arm, not before saying "you have impossible veins." Thanks lady. Way to soothe me. Anyway, port in, I'm in, we're ready. I did my breathing exercises while in there, in through the nose, out through the mouth, over and over and over. I'd feel the panic creep up, and go back to focusing on my breathing. "Now we're injecting the dye so the next 5-10 min are really important that you don't move." That did it, I felt trapped. I had had enough of the banging, clanking and noises, enough of the sensation of dye being released, and my breast bone was killing me. I was wiggling my toes, I was playing with the panic button in my hand, and I was about to explode. Just as I grabbed the button to press and end it all, the 45 minute session was done.
I don't think I'll ever get used to an MRI machine.
Mammogram
After the MRI, they walked me to the mammogram room, where I was informed that instead of the normal four images, I would be having eight. Apparently, once you have implants, you have an additional four which are called 'pinching' images. This is part of the American Cancer Society's recommended procedure. Several views must be taken to see both the implant and the tissue. So, the first four are what you're used to, regular squeeze, two angles on each breast.
The pinch is different. They literally squeeze the tissue, pushing the implant back and getting as much tissue forward as possible for the scan, and then take an image of just the tissue. Imaging can only see 75% of your tissue with an implant in place, so 25% is nearly impossible to see...therefore the pinch. I will say, the regular image hurt more than the pinching, and overall, I felt more discomfort with these images with implants than without.
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| http://www.imaginis.com/mammography/ breast-implant-imaging |
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| http://www.imaginis.com/mammography/ breast-implant-imaging |
Ultrasound
After the mammogram, it was time for the ultrasound. My last ultrasound is the entire reason I finally stopped putting off surgery and ran straight to the doctor for a surgical appointment. Remember, I was diagnosed with BRCA1 in 2005, but due to having children and moving Internationally, there was never a time or a doctor where I was, where the reconstruction part of the surgery could happen. In 2015, I went in for my routine mammogram and ultrasound, but this time, they made me wait in the waiting room...for a long time. They finally said they wanted me to see a breast specialist that day as they found a cyst of some sort.
Now, where I am, preventive mastectomy is not practiced, it's radical. So, they opt for a lumpectomy and surveillance. Yeah, not for me, no more, not happening...off to surgery I go. I went back to the States for surgery. I was never going to feel that way again...except, well, at March 17th's appointment. There I was again, same exact room, lying on the bed, praying and hoping all would be fine. I don't think anyone can ever truly explain the fears and worry we have going through this for most of our lives. I started mammograms and ultrasounds in 2005....holding my breath every six months, wondering when I'd hear the C word. I don't think it ever goes away, as it's now 2018, and I'm just as panicked, even with surgery having happened.
The right breast scan took a long time, and she hovered over one area for a very long time, taking still shots and showing the thermal spots. She hopped over to the left breast, was done VERY quickly, but went back to the right breast. At this moment, I really started to worry. She was taking measurements, taking more still photos and staying in the same spot. Now my pessimistic side appeared. I just lay there calmly, thinking she'd say something to me, and after last time, surely they would. But nothing. When I asked, she simply said the doctor needs to read it.
It's now two days later, the 19th, and I'm still waiting for results. All I can think of is that if it was serious, they wouldn't make me wait this long, right?
I'll be back with an update as soon as I hear, but for now, send all the good juju vibes you can.
