It was now Friday. It had been 72 hours since "lumpy" appeared and there was no sign it was going away without a fight.
With my husband and friend in tow, we made our way to my 9:00AM appointment. When we arrived, we walked the halls of this enormous medical facility, taking in all that was and all that could be. After checking in, I was taken by a CNA for my weight, height and vitals. They allowed my husband and friend to join in me in the tiniest of rooms for three people. We waited anxiously and were greeted by a tall, slender physician who was eager to find out more, as were we. Little did I know, he would be my go-to Surgical Oncologist throughout my GM journey. I explained the appearance of "lumpy" and asked, "what's next"?
Another physical exam; the pain of him inspecting my mass caused tears to stream down my face. Another ultrasound; confirmed there were visible pockets of fluid in the breast. Next, a fine needle aspiration. It was explained a needle would be used in an attempt to extract fluid that was pooling in my breast tissue. The fluid would be sent to pathology for review in hopes to provide some answers. I was prepped, cleaned, given a lidocaine shot, then the aspiration. The fluid was thick and difficult to extract; less than 1cc of fluid was collected. I was given an ice pack to place in my bra once the lidocaine wore off and sent home to wait.
While chatting about all the "what-ifs" over lunch, an intense headache crept in and took over. By six o'clock in the evening, a fever steadily climbing. While my husband stayed with our children, my friend of 20+ years drove me to the Emergency Room. After repeating my days and hours of "lumpy", I grew frustrated and tired. Frustrated I had no answers and tired or repeating myself. I was admitted to the hospital where I would spend the next seven days.