Not the Best News, But Staying Optimistic

I had my appointment last week to have a sonogram performed for the lump that I found in my breast. It was a pretty interesting experience because I had never before been to an actual doctor’s office outside of the U.S. (I’d only visited the health clinic here at my school.) I wasn’t really sure what to expect, as the healthcare system here in Dominica is a far cry from what I’m used to in the States. The experience was actually surprisingly nice. The doctor’s office looked very much like what you’d see in the States, and all of the staff, (including the doctor) were very pleasant.

The doctor who performed the sonogram was not a local Dominican, and she actually spoke with a very heavy Spanish accent, which made her difficult to understand at times, but I think I caught most of what she said. She actually had a great bedside manner, was very courteous and explained every step of the process to me. After she took some stills, she stopped to show me the images and explained to me what they meant.

Because the mass appeared very dark on the scan, she felt that it was likely not a cyst, and could perhaps be a tumor. She assured me, however, that I shouldn’t worry too much, because it was likely a fibroadenoma. I’ve since done my research on fibroadenomas, and I think that it’s a likely diagnosis. Luckily, they are benign tumors, and don’t increase my risk of developing breast cancer in the future. I was surprised to find out how common they are amongst women my age.

My doctor felt that it was necessary to have a biopsy performed in order to determine if the lump was cancerous, so I made an appointment to see the doctor at the health clinic on campus to get a referral. I’ll be going to see another doctor in a few days to have the biopsy performed.

Honestly, I was a little alarmed at first when I heard the word “tumor,” but I’ve since realized that I shouldn’t worry so much about it. I mean, what does worrying really help? Instead, I’ve told myself that it’s likely a benign mass, and everything will probably be okay. But I’ve also prepared myself in case it turns out to be cancerous. I think that’s really all you can do in a situation like this.

I’ve been thinking about an analogy to my situation. Every time you cross the road, you don’t stress out and worry about whether or not you’re going to get hit by a car. But at the same time, you don’t just run out into the road blindly. Instead, you look both ways before crossing the street, and when everything is clear, you walk confidently to the other side of the road. I’ve prepared myself for whatever news I receive about the lump, and now I’m walking confidently to the other side.

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