Breast trouble - benign or not?

[beandelphiki]

Note: This is actually an entry from THURSDAY. I've been trying to get this posted, but it's long and I have to get up early in the mornings - I'm working a lot of 10-hour+ days at the moment - and it took longer than I thought it would to write.

---

*takes deep breath* So, as messages in my inbox have noted, I haven't been on in, like, forever.

Also, my mother informed me today over lunch - we went out to buy me clothes for work, we have to wear "Western"-style stuff for Stampede - that there have been a lot of calls from "California" showing up on our call display lately. (*koff*) She'd know because she checks messages. It's lovely when she remembers to tell me these things.

Oh and she's also puzzled by calls from a "Jennifer," but I know that's my Dad, calling from his girlfriend's place. (She doesn't know about the girlfriend, or that Dad's moved in with her.) I bailed on him for Father's Day, and he hasn't heard from me since.

And I think lytheris tried to call me a while back...? But I don't remember.


Yeah. I've been hard to reach.


Something I've noticed is that my posting tendencies seem to fluctuate in inverse proportion to how intense my life is at the moment, emotionally speaking. So if my life is boring and same-old, I'm on more.

And if it's blowing my mind from stress, I disappear from the online world. The worse it is, the more places I disappear from. The past several weeks, I pretty much haven't been on at ALL, anywhere. And people can't reach me offline either, unless they work or live with me.

So yeah, I'm a little upset/worked up right now.

I've also been taking over other people's shifts at work (a supervisor moved cities, and two people took weeks off), being trained for supervisor, FINALLY (to replace the one that left), and been pretty sick and tired in both literal senses. (Tired: I'm taking med holidays from my Dex on my days off work, but that has the end result of a productive-productive-productive-productive-productive-withdrawalOMGTIRED pattern each week, and I usually sleep 18 hours or so on my days off.)

But mostly, I've been avoiding the 'net. Instead, I've actually been watching TV (which I never do) and catching up on House, M.D. episodes because it's my engaging new fandom that

a) is attention-grabbing enough to completely distract me, and
b) has the benefit of being pointlessly reassuring on the subject I am most distressed about; namely, medical concerns.


See, I'm a teensy weensy bit worried that I have breast cancer.


I know, I know, I'm way too young. WAAAY too young. Way, WAAAAY too young. Like, ten years, at least! Heck, more like twenty, in fact! Which I suspect is why it's taken me months to get my doctor to take me seriously. *MASSIVE FRET*

I don't really mind if it's not breast cancer - really! I'll take feeling slightly foolish in GOOD stride if it's not. I just want to know what's wrong. I want to know why the underside of my right breast has a texture which my doctor helpfully described as "almost peau d’orange."



Well, "almost" peau d’orange was really my self-diagnosis as well. I'm no oncologist, so I don't know what that means.

Full story, which I have been keeping to myself thus far this year:

I came home from work some months ago (I believe it was in Feburary), and stripped to get into the shower, glanced in the mirror on my way to the tub and...stopped. Hmm. What's that...?

There was a reddish tone to the underside of my right boobie. Bill, I think I used to call it. (The other one was Bob.) I examined things in the mirror, thinking perhaps I had scratched myself or something, but that didn't appear to be the case. It was more of a...flush. Odd. Strange.

Well, whatever. I turned to get into the tub a second time, and...stopped. Wait. That doesn't look right. Not that I need to get too picky about the things - I want them gone, right? - but the shape of the right one seemed...off...somehow.

After some deliberation, I decided it seemed like the underside was swollen a bit. Or maybe it looked a bit collapsed? Or something. It was so subtle, I couldn't decide if I was really seeing it or not. I thought, I'm sure it's nothing. I thought, Maybe it's some premature sagging because of all the years of BINDING the damn things. That's bound to happen. I thought, But it looks like something's WRONG. I thought, I'm sure it's nothing, take your damn shower.

I took it. Scrubbie-dub-dubbed and thought no more on the subject. Almost. Thing is...you know your own breasts by the time you're 21, right? You see them every damn day in the mirror. Maybe someone ELSE would say nothing had changed, but I knew better.

Then I got out of the shower and the steam on the mirrors cleared some and revealed that the underside of the right boob was BRIGHT SCREAMING RED. The hell? Okay, I get a bit pink in the shower (I like them hot), but that was bizarre. And it seemed like it was a bit too warm. Well, I figured I'd mention it to Dr. H, since I had an appointment coming up in a few weeks.

A day or so later, then pain started. Only on the right side, restricted to my right breast and VERY painful - sharp, stabbing pains that had me doubling over in agony.

And then somewhere in there I finally noticed something different about the skin on my breast. (Or maybe it didn't show up right away.) The only way I could think of to describe it to myself was to say, "It...wrinkles differently." It pits where the hair grows, is raised elsewhere, and when given a testing pinch, clumps oddly while the skin on my left breast just folds up. (Does that sound silly?)

So I went to see Dr. H. It was the appointment where I also got her to prescribe me my first Ritalin tablets, I believe, so a lot has happened since then. I informed her of the redness, of the mysterious change in shape, and of the pain. I didn't think the skin change was terribly important at the time, and so didn't mention it. (A lesson...)

She poked, prodded, met my eyes most of the time (okay, thanks for the bedside manners, but...) and then informed me that there were no lumps, I was fine, and the pain was probably menstrual-related, and shooed me out the door. There were a lot of people in the waiting room - I guess she was anxious to get through them. I also told her that my hands and feet have been going numb on and off for months, but she didn't seem concerned about that, either.

For the next several months, I tried to keep her assurances in mind. Actually, I mostly forgot about the changes in my right breast, because I was so busy. The pain lasted just long enough for me to establish that it probably wasn't related to my cycle, and then disappeared. Why worry about the ABSENCE of pain? I just forgot about it. Except sometimes before I got in the shower, or when I was lying back on my bed in just briefs and saw how a section of skin on my breast looked glaringly strange. Then this deep dread would well up, and I'd say to myself, She said no lumps, I'm fine, no lumps, I'm fine, until some other thought distracted me.

But in the back of my head, it's been bugging me all along that she just poked me and sent me on my way with no explanation. I should know from experience (hospital radiologists totally missing my pneumothorax) that just because you don't FIND anything wrong, doesn't mean something isn't there.

I got online at one point a few months back and tentatively Googled some of my symptoms. What I found seriously scared the shit out of me. I was pleased to find something that seemed to describe the skin change on my right breast - orange peel skin, that sounds right! - and nearly kicked the bucket on the spot when I Googled that separately and kept coming up with inflammatory breast cancer. Gosh, did you know the 5-year survival rate for IBC is now up to 40%? Whoo-fucking-hoo.

I had a bit of a meltdown- what if it's cancer? What if I'm DYING, ZOMG! - and then did something incredibly uncharacteristic for me, and stuck my head in the sand. I thought it might just be better not to know if it really was cancer. Like, what about my job? What about finishing school? I got almost superstitous about it - if I go on like nothing's wrong, nothing is. It won't turn out to be something serious.

In retrospect, that was very strange (for me). I'm not the sort of person who thinks a false hope is a good one, and it seems especially strange that I somehow just assumed I'd have a less treatable type of problem if it IS serious. Why did I think I'd rather just go on for a while without knowing? I want to know EVERYTHING! EVERYTHING! One of the things that has me the most shaken right now is that very basic part of sense of self being disturbed.

Weirdly, the thing that knocked me out of that period of ostrich-imitation was my new interest in House. I was reading Jump the Shark, and someone said that the doctors on the show suck because it takes them 3-5 tries to get the diagnosis right every episode. Farther down, someone else shot back, "I've been in to the hospital 5 times this month, and they STILL don't know what's wrong with me!"

Initially I laughed, but then I started thinking about that. I realized how true it is that doctors, for all their training, are often wrong. My pneumothorax! Duh! (Not to keep bringing that up.) And how my doctor completely missed a classic case of adolescent-onset Restless Leg Syndrome in me when I was 14/15, and just told me it was "dry skin." Or how she thought I was developing diabetes because I drank and peed so much, despite there being no trouble whatsoever with my blood glucose. (I strongly suspect a dietary imbalance myself - I'm still working on that, but omega-3 supplements seem to help.) And so on...

Oh, and let's not forget her telling my sister to dump her bisexual boyfriend because he might give her "bisexual diseases"! (WHAT.) My doctor is not the best in the world. (We'd switch, but you have no idea what a nightmare the medical system in Alberta is like right now...)

So I made a decision to take more control of my medical life. Part of which involved going back to see her and pushing for a mammogram, stat. I figured I'd use the logic that even if nothing is wrong, I should have a "clean" mammogram for the future.

...Which didn't quite work. She examined me again, stated for a second time that there were no lumps, and said I was fine. She remembered I'd been concerned about shape, and assured me that, "Some asymmetry is perfectly normal in young women..." (Although mine have never really been distinctly asymmetrical in any way. I know because I've often studied them just trying to figure out if one is actually bigger - which is supposed to be common - but I've never ben able to determine for sure that one is.)

She could clearly see I wasn't sold, and still wanted a mammogram, so she told me, "We rarely recommend women get one before age 40..." and could see that didn't convince me, either. So she asked what was bothering me the most, and I said the skin changes. The ridging/pitting/orange peel look remains. I have a vein standing out. (Just beneath my nipple though, and I honestly can't remember if that was there before.) And the skin in that section is much thicker in comparison to the skin in the same spot on the other breast.

THAT, finally, got her attention. She hoisted up the shirt I was wearing again and started muttering like she didn't know what I was talking about. I said, "It doesn't show so much when I'm standing or sitting up. It's much easier to see if I'm lying down."

"Well, absolutely lie down then, and show me!"

I did. Finally, she saw it too. Okay, well...in that case, I should get an ultrasound done. ("But don't lose any sleep, okay? The chances that you'd have breast cancer at this age are very remote.") So she filled out a form. I'm going to get a "bilateral" ultrasound done, of the entirety of both breasts for comparison, and it was on that form that she noted the "almost" peau d’orange skin.

So I'm getting tested in SOME fashion - my ultrasound is on Tuesday - and I shall see what comes of that.

In the meantime, though, I'm a bit lost as to what to do. Should I do a ton of research, try to find out what it might be? Whenever I do a search on the skin thing I come up with inflammatory breast cancer, but that doesn't quite seem to fit. (Mainly because IBC seems to be marked by noticeable swelling, warmth and redness that looks like an infection and which doesn't go away.) It might be smart to have a clue - if I'd had more clue the first time, I might have mentioned the skin changes sooner.

But I also do not want to freak myself out totally.

BUT, I do want to have some time to prepare myself mentally. In case it's not something benign. I've been trying to decide what scares or upsets me the most about the "remote" (my doc kept using that word in reference to the odds!) chance that it's actually cancer - that I won't have really finished or accomplished something if I die young? That even if I don't die, it'll totally screw up my life for at least a year or two? That if I need chemo, my hair might not grow back in so fabulously Harry Potter? That if I do die, they're probably going to inscribe, "hopeless SLOB!" on my gravestone over the state of my bedroom?

No, right now, I think my biggest fear is that I'll cry if I get told that. I hate crying in front of people with a passion, and given what I've already managed to get through (abuse of various types, growing up ADHD, suicidal depression, coming out as transsexual, that kind of thing), I'd like to think that I could pull this off with some dignity.

But I'm guessing maybe not. Since when was I known for stoic calm and grace under fire?

Feh.


Anyway. I need to go to bed because it's (eep) 2 am, and I'm up earlier than usual tomorrow. But tomorrow is a short day (Sunday!), and I'm off work on Monday this week, so I will try to catch up with people Monday at the latest, if not tomorrow night.

I pray I haven't misspelled much in this longer-than-a-day-in-hell entry, because I REALLY am too tired to proofread.

'Nite, all.

Comments

[cmot-dribbler.livejournal.com]

My mother spent 20 years going through different hospitals, different doctors, different medications.
20 years, 5 major breakdowns, 3 suicide attempts, Social Services, Police, etc.....
20 years, till finally! the told the doctors to go screw themselves, and did their own research, found a better doctor, found a better medication.
Trust yourself more than a doctor, you know your body, you know your abilites, you know. Yourself.

[beandelphiki.livejournal.com]

*nods* That's my feeling on it more and more.

Thank you.

[siegeengine.livejournal.com]

an area I know precious little about. I'm certainly with you in hoping that everything turns out to be something benign. Sometimes doctors are right, too. I've had many things worry me and they always seem to tell me it's nothing.

[beandelphiki.livejournal.com]

Yeah...I might have trusted the situation a bit more if it wasn't such a serious concern, you know? Doctors sometimes seem to approach things backward...like, let's treat it as less serious first, and if THAT doesn't work, go more serious ("less likely"). By that point...it could be very bad. You know?

But I also don't know much about all the benign things it could apparently be. So I couldn't suggest what else it could be. I just figure...I'll keep an eye on things, report what's going on, and trust my instincts about it not being "okay" and leave the "figuring out what it actually is" part to the ones with the training.

Yeah.

[emptygirl.livejournal.com]

I'm really anxious for you :(

I hope it goes well tomorrow.

[beandelphiki.livejournal.com]

Likewise! Your current situation concerns me, but I do not see a solution I can offer that would help...I would think you need and deserve professional help, but I've always gotten the impression that would be really expensive. :/

We shall send each other good wishes and thoughts, howsabout. *smile*