Ever feel like maybe the universe IS trying to crush you? I know that I suffer from the effects of anxiety and trauma, I get that my heart will forever race when I enter the walls of a medical office. I have been working to accept this as my normal for some time now.
Yesterday I got a terrible call. Fucked up in every way. My annual mammogram screen was abnormal.
Let me back up.... I went to get this mammogram because insurance covers it (thanks ACA). A lot of literature is out there that says if you're in your forties, you are possibly better served going every other year because of the rate of false positives. Nevertheless, I received a couple of reminder letters in the mail. I happened to not be pregnant. Sure, go get it over with.
My follow-up ultrasound is monday afternoon. Could it be a false positive? Sure. There's anywhere between a 45 and 60 percent false positive rate in women my age. I have really dense breasts. My mom does too. We don't have a family history of early breast cancer in our family. Due to some stuff with an estranged family member that I will leave off this blog, I did happen to be tested for BRCA. And I am not a carrier. My mammogram reading could look different from the baseline one I had done at 40 because, well, you know, two fucking pregnancies. I could go in and not even need a biopsy.
On the other hand, I could be really unlucky. Because you know, it's me. I could actually need a biopsy and then have to wait even longer in this state of being. Fuck, I could be walking around with goddamn cancer right now.
In any event I am sort of angry. Unfocused. Tense.
Angry and tense by the way does wonders for my weight. I get beautifully slim when I get stressed out.
And then there's the baby shower I am attending in a few hours. You read that right. PBFAW's baby shower. I am one of the only people from our office invited, it's sort of a special thing.
I spend hours ruminating over whether my ttc days are going to end, how they're going to end. On what terms. Ha. A fucking cancer diagnosis could well be how they end.
Risk of women to experience three or more consecutive miscarriages - 1:100
Risk of women to experience a partial molar pregnancy - 1:1,500
Risk of babies to develop a giant omphalocele - 1:5,000 to 1:10,000
Risk of woman to experience all three of the above scenarios, with a side order of Asherman's Syndome: Fuck My Life.
With all of that, I should now note that there is this:
Risk of women at 40 to be diagnosed with breast cancer -1:68. Which I realize is just under 1.5%.
1.5% is a pretty meaningless number, catch my drift?