There is a moment when something you were convinced would be nothing begins to feel like it might be something.
You don't have a diagnosis.
Nobody has told you that you have cancer.
But suddenly, the routine test you almost didn't schedule has led to another test. And then another.
For me, that was the beginning of one of the most frightening parts of finding out I had breast cancer.
Not knowing.
The First Mammogram
I was 42 when I had my first mammogram.
I went alone.
It was supposed to be a simple test, and that's exactly how I treated it. I knew there were different types of breast imaging available, but in my mind there was no reason for me to do anything beyond the regular mammogram.
I wasn't expecting them to find anything.
When the test was finished, the technician explained something that actually made me feel better.
Because this was my first mammogram, she told me there was a good chance I might be called back for additional imaging. They didn't have previous mammograms to use for comparison, so callbacks could happen.
She told me not to worry.
A few days later, they called.
I was at work when I received the news that I needed to go back for another test.
Of course, I called my husband right away.
We reminded each other of what the technician had already told me.
Don't worry. They warned us this might happen. It's just another test. It's probably a precaution.
And I believed that.
When the Fear Started
I went back for another mammogram, this time focusing on my right breast.
Afterward, I waited.
Then they took me into another room for an ultrasound.
That's when something changed inside me.
For the first time, the fear became real.
A million thoughts started moving through my head, but I kept trying to stop myself from jumping to conclusions.
There was no reason to panic yet.
There was no diagnosis.
Nobody had told me I had cancer.
Maybe everything was still fine.
Then the doctor finished the ultrasound and talked to me about what she was seeing.
She explained that there were areas in my breast that didn't have the circular shape they would normally want to see and that they needed to be investigated further.
She gave me different options for what could happen next.
I don't remember most of them.
By that point, my mind wasn't processing everything she was saying anymore.
There was one option I heard clearly:
Biopsy.
And somewhere inside me, before anyone had actually said the word cancer, I already believed I had it.
August 17
My biopsy was scheduled a few days later, on August 17.
I will never forget that date.
This time, my husband came with me.
Neither of us knew it then, but this would be the beginning of what became seemingly endless medical appointments over the next two years.
I remember sitting in the waiting area that day and watching other patients.
People were being called from the waiting room and walking toward the right side of the office. That was the direction of the mammography area.
Then they called my name.
I went left.
It may sound like an insignificant detail.
It wasn't.
When you're scared, little things suddenly carry enormous meaning.
Everyone else seemed to be going in one direction for their regular appointments, while I was being taken in another direction for a biopsy.
That walk to the left hurt.
It made everything feel different.
After the biopsy, they brought my husband into the office with me.
The doctor started talking to us about what would happen next.
I was crying.
I know she explained things to us, but I remember very little of that conversation.
There was really only one thing I understood:
We had to wait for the results.
Waiting for an Answer You Don't Want
Waiting for medical results is a strange kind of fear.
You don't have an answer yet, so part of you knows you shouldn't assume the worst.
But your mind doesn't always cooperate.
One minute, you tell yourself everything might be okay.
The next, you're imagining what happens if it isn't.
You want answers because living with uncertainty is frightening.
At the same time, you're afraid of what those answers might be.
And there is nothing you can do to make them come faster.
So you wait.
I think that's one of the things I understand differently now.
Before going through it myself, I might have thought the hardest part would begin once someone told you that you had cancer.
But there is a different kind of fear that can come before a diagnosis.
It's the space between something might be wrong and now we know.
You are still living your normal life, but suddenly it doesn't feel normal anymore.
Don't Diagnose Yourself While You're Waiting
Looking back, I understand why our minds go to the worst possible place.
Fear wants certainty, even when certainty isn't available yet.
But a callback for additional imaging isn't itself a cancer diagnosis. Neither is an ultrasound or a recommendation for a biopsy. Those tests are being done because doctors need more information.
That's something worth remembering when you're the person waiting.
Ask your healthcare team what happens next.
Write things down if you need to.
Bring someone with you when you can, especially if you're worried you won't remember everything you're told.
And try not to make yourself responsible for understanding every possible outcome before you even have the results.
That's much easier to say than it is to do.
I know.
I was already convinced I had cancer before anyone had officially told me that I did.
Sometimes You Don't Know How Much Your Life Is About to Change
We left the biopsy appointment without an answer.
There was nothing left for us to do.
We had gone to the appointments.
I had completed the additional imaging.
I had the ultrasound.
I had the biopsy.
Now someone else had to examine what had been taken from my body and tell us what it meant.
So we waited.
I didn't know exactly when the answer would come.
I didn't know how I would receive it.
And I certainly didn't know what life would look like once I had it.
I only knew that somewhere, eventually, there would be a pathology report with an answer that could change everything.
Three days later, on a Sunday morning, that answer appeared on my phone.
And everything changed.
