Oliver: Sometimes anxiety over cancer isn’t just worrying over nothing

Last Thursday, I went for my six-month follow-up mammogram. It’s been six months since I completed radiation treatments for my second bout of breast cancer.

After one has been diagnosed with cancer of any kind, these routine screenings are a cause of anxiety, even if we try to tell ourselves otherwise.

I’ve known several people who have experienced cancer. Some of them are still with us, and others are not. I’ve known cancer patients who have been young and died. I’ve watched my father and my oldest brother die of cancer, too.

I’ve also had friends who have had to deal with breast cancer. Some of them fought for their lives and won. They went through something far more intense than I have, and they made it to the other side.

However, I’ve also had friends who did not. Particularly heartbreaking were the mothers of small children, who no doubt did not fully comprehend what was going on.

All of this makes the anxiety that comes with cancer understandable. We each must figure out a way to continue forward despite the niggling fear.

That’s what I intended to write about this week, convinced that I would get through this mammogram with no problem and have six months to a year to not worry about the “c” word.

However, the sadistic screenwriter writing my life story had other plans.

I got the first inkling that something wasn’t quite right with my mammogram when it seemed to take a really long time for the radiology tech to come back into the room. She told me that we needed to take a few more pictures.

Uh oh. Last year, I was called back in for more images the next day. I asked if this was in lieu of coming back. She said yes.

After a couple of more pictures, she left the room again. More time passed. When she returned, she was accompanied by the doctor who had been looking at my pictures.

If you had “another biopsy” on your bingo card for the Oliver Family, you’d be ahead of me. I honestly didn’t see this coming.

Apparently, there is something new on my right side. That’s the side that had a tumor removed and radiation treatments in 2019. Last year, it was all about the left side.

When I was told last year that I’d need another biopsy, I’ll admit that my first reaction was irritation, fear and anger. This was not supposed to happen. I even got a little snippy with the nurse navigator, for which I apologized immediately. It wasn’t her fault.

But I had done everything I could reasonably do to make sure I didn’t have more cancer. I was broadsided.

This time, all I could muster was stunned resignation. I’ll undergo a stereotactic biopsy, which uses mammogram images to locate the problem spot and then get a tissue sample to determine whether what I’m dealing with is cancer again.

I’ve had this done at least twice before. It’s not the worst procedure, but it’s not a good time.

Still, there is a possibility that the new calcifications that are being flagged are nothing more than what happens with us older women. I’ll gladly admit to being old if it means that I’m not dealing with my third round of breast cancer since 2019.

I should have a better idea by the end of this week. The biopsy was Tuesday, and I have a previously scheduled yearly meeting with my surgeon on Friday.

In the meantime, I’m doing my best to remain cautiously optimistic, which is what I always tell my friends who have had to have biopsy or ultrasound after a mammogram. Just because you’re having the test doesn’t automatically mean that you’ve got cancer.

In my case, though, the track record isn’t exactly a cause for optimism. Though the advice is still sound.

Worrying isn’t going to change anything. And if it is something, once again it’s been caught early.

I’ll just have to wait and see.

• Joan Oliver is the former Northwest Herald assistant news editor. She has been associated with the Northwest Herald since 1990. She can be reached at jolivercolumn@gmail.com.