Oliver: Waiting for results from a biopsy resembles a roller-coaster ride

Last week felt like a roller-coaster ride at Great America.

What I had hoped would be a routine mammogram last Thursday set me on a familiar, yet terrifying path.

The mammogram technician left me sitting in the screening room while she consulted with a doctor who was reading my images. That it seemed to take forever was not good news.

When she returned, she said we needed more images. That’s not a good sign, either.

Once the doctor had reviewed the new images, she came into the room and delivered the bad news: I would need to have yet another biopsy to check a couple of new groupings of calcifications on my right breast.

This was the same breast from which a tumor had been removed in 2019. The same one that had undergone a month of radiation treatments then, too.

Last year, it was all about my left breast. That one had been diagnosed with ductal carcinoma in situ (DCIS) in 2019 and had been part of a double lumpectomy surgery. Then, last year a new grouping of calcifications had required a biopsy and then a couple of surgeries when new cancer had been found. Then it received its month of radiation treatments.

I suppose it’s understandable that I was nervous about the new calcifications that had been found on the right side.

The following day, my breast cancer surgeon called to check on me. Her words: “So we’re back on the right side again?” Uh, yes.

I did my best not to worry too much. What was there was there. If it turned out to be cancer, I’d find out what we could do about it and follow the guidance.

Still, cancer at this point was going to be different from the past couple of rounds. I’m no longer a candidate for radiation treatments. I’ve exhausted that avenue of treatment.

Would I need to have chemotherapy? Would I have to undergo a mastectomy? What if I had to lose my hair?

As hard as I tried, I did find myself pondering these questions and others. How would I be able to continue to care for Tony and his Alzheimer’s disease?

Soon enough, Tuesday morning’s appointment arrived, and I found myself in a familiar place and in a familiar procedure: a stereotactic, mammogram-guided core needle biopsy.

I was seated in front of a mammogram machine and the doctor and techs positioned me and used mammogram images to figure out where to insert the needle to get at those new groups of calcifications.

The thing to know about microcalcifications is that they aren’t always cancer. The American Cancer Society points out that it’s only when they are in a suspicious grouping that they even must be checked.

In my case, with my history, they weren’t taking any chances.

The biopsy itself isn’t exactly a comfortable endeavor, but if it means that cancer can be found early, then I’m willing to put myself through it.

After about an hour, I headed home. I was told that I’d probably have my results on Thursday or Friday.

When I heard my phone ringing during lunch on Wednesday, I ran to answer it but just missed the call. It was from my breast cancer surgeon, and my heart sank. Oh no, not again.

Last year, I was told that I could expect my mammogram results in three to five days. I got a call from the breast center the next day. I don’t have the best track record when my results come back early.

So it was with great trepidation that I listened to the voicemail message that my surgeon had left.

I’m pretty sure that I jumped for joy when I heard the words “happy news.” I called her right back.

The news was indeed happy: No cancer. The calcifications were nothing to be worried about.

To say that I was relieved would be an understatement. Ecstatic. Joyful. Grateful.

Will I never have to go through this again? That’s hard to say. Cancer often has its own plans.

But for now, I’m breathing a sigh of relief. This roller-coaster ride is over.

• 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.