When I looked at my Friday blog, I realized I didn’t do justice to the topic of my boobs. Sometimes, discussing breast health can be an awkward or intimidating topic when we personalize it. It shouldn’t be. We all should be able to openly discuss it.

Ok, let’s talk about my boobs or as I often refer to them – my boobage. Ever since breasts first showed up on my body in the sixth grade, I’ve had more than I wanted. A small b-cup would work perfectly for me. However, I’ve been blessed with some large Cs that are probably truly Ds. Count me as one among the number who wear the wrong size bra, but if I loose weight…. I haven’t always thought that they were a blessing; rather I’ve often been annoyed. I’m a runner and I hate bouncing boobs, because each bounce and every bounce is way too uncomfortable. When running, I typically wear two bras of different styles and sizes to make sure everything is on lock-down. Sometimes, the band is so tight that I can’t take in a full breath. Not a good idea for a runner, but I see not breathing as the lesser issue.

One day, probably after listening to another story of a woman who was getting a breast augmentation, I changed my mind. I decided that my full healthy breasts were, in fact, worth appreciating. I thanked the Lord that I had them; they were healthy and still relatively perky. I’ve always claimed that if they get much bigger, I’m getting a reduction. For the record, I am not joking.

When I found myself with a sharp stabbing pain shooting through the lower left section of my left breast, I wanted to make sure that I keep the boobage healthy. I didn’t think too much of the pain the first time. Throughout my life, I’ve had phantom undiagnosed pain. When I was a child, those things were just chalked up to growing pains. At this stage in my life, I should no longer be having anything that fits into that category. Each time the stabbing returned, I pressed, pushed and squeezed my breast looking for something. Even though I had done a web search and found numerous reasons to have pain and no disease, I eventually convinced myself that something was actually there and visited my internist to have her check it out. She performed a clinical exam with nothing to report, but sent me to a radiologist. I had a mammography and a bilateral ultrasound to fully explore my dense breasts. (I’m guessing this accounts for some of the perkiness.) She didn’t think anything was there either, but sent me to a breast surgeon for an exam by one of the best at recognizing breast cancer with his bare hands. I live in Long Island and for reasons I’ll go into in a later post; we’re aggressive when it comes to breast issues. Going to this doctor meant I really didn’t get the full praise on until I got the negative report from my breast MRI, a test I didn’t even know that test existed.

Let’s fast forward through the follow-ups. The fist one – negative. After waiting 6 more months, I had another. Unbelievably a lump was detected in my on the side where I had the pain. I was just there and now they find something. The nurse explained and scheduled my next test, a needle biopsy. I was ready to have it right then, but I had to wait. It felt like forever, but it must have been 2 weeks or less. Good thing, I know Jesus. How is a person supposed to walk around for weeks knowing that there is something inside her breast that could possible alter her life? There was absolutely nothing I could do except wait and pray, pray and wait. (1 Peter 5:7 (NIV) Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you. Philippians 4:7 (NIV) And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.)

On a Friday afternoon, I had the test and had to wait some more. The portion of my lump that was removed by a horse-sized needle was sent to a lab. Tuesday, the lab reported another negative, a fibroadenoma. Basically, there are 2 millimeters of something in my breast and that thing is not cancer. Praise the Lord!!

While that feels like so long ago, it really wasn’t. Yet, it’s time for another round of tests. This time my first stop was to the radiologist. Each boob was flattened as much as possible between two clear plastic trays and shot with electromagnetic radiation to make the grey scale picture. Only once did I grunt in pain as I tried to stand perfectly still. After the mammography, each boob was covered in a goopy gel for a roller-type device that used sound waves to peer inside. Again, another negative report. My medical tour continues. Next week I’ll be off the surgeon with my final engagement the following week with my internist.

One thing I know is that I need to praise the Lord now! Feel free to join me in praise. I have the chorus of a little song running through my head that I sang with the choir in junior high. “Don’t wait till the battle is over shout now. You know in the end, you’re going to win. Yeah.”