that maybe the lump had disappeared. But it was still there, about the size of a small walnut. She retrieved the phone and made a long-overdue appointment with her doctor.
‘Good morning, Juliet,’ Dr Wilson said as she called her into the consulting room. ‘What can I do for you today?’
‘I’ve found another breast lump,’ Juliet said as she sat down. She had a history of benign nodules and she’d had various tests done in the past but thankfully they’d all come back negative for any malignancy.
‘When did you notice this one?’
‘A few months ago,’ she answered honestly.
‘Any changes in this one?’
‘I think it’s got bigger.’
Dr Wilson looked at her with one eyebrow raised. ‘Any reason why you haven’t been in to see me sooner?’
Juliet knew that the change in the size of the lump should have sounded warning bells. It had, she just hadn’t had the time or energy to deal with it. Part of her had also tried to pretend that this lump was just like all the others and they’d been fine, hadn’t they? But she knew that this lump wasn’t the same—it had kept on growing.
‘Sam and I got divorced. I had a lot on my plate.’
‘I’m sorry to hear about the divorce?that must have been tough.’ Dr Wilson paused before adding, ‘Do you want my lecture on how important it is not to neglect your health now or should I save it for later?’
Juliet shook her head. ‘Save it. I know I owe it to my children to look after myself, that’s why I’m here.’
‘Fair enough. Let’s have a look at this lump, then, shall we?’
Juliet undressed and was poked and prodded for the first of what would become many times over the course of the next few days. The lump was tender but no worse than the others had been.
‘How big was it when you first noticed it?’ Dr Wilson asked.
‘About the size of a pea,’ Juliet recalled.
‘Just under a centimetre, then. It’s now between three and four. When did you notice that it had got bigger?’
‘Probably five or six weeks ago,’ Juliet estimated. It had been around the time she and Sam had gone to court, which was one reason she’d ignored it. It hadn’t reached the top of her list of priorities yet.
‘I think we need to check this out further. You can get dressed and then I’ll take some blood, and I’m also going to send you off for a mammogram. You haven’t had one before, have you?’
‘No, only ultrasounds.’
‘It can be a bit difficult to get a clear picture with a mammogram in the under forty-five age group because your breast tissue is still quite dense, but I want to do that so we can get a look at the size and shape of the lump and a clear idea of its position. I’m going to refer you for a biopsy as well but those results will take a little longer to get back.’
Juliet was dressed now and sat in the chair beside Dr. Wilson’s desk, extending her left arm, ready for blood to be drawn. The needle stung as it entered her arm and she watched the dark red blood fill up the vial, wondering what sort of nasty things her blood was harbouring.
‘I want you to have the mammogram this afternoon, and I’ll make some calls and see if I can get you in for the biopsy tomorrow,’ Dr Wilson said as she capped and labelled Juliet’s blood. ‘Is there someone who can help you with the children if the appointment times clash with school pick-ups? It might make it easier to get appointments for you if you can be flexible.’
Juliet nodded silently. She didn’t have a clue who to call but she was sure she’d think of someone once her brain had time to process all the other stuff Dr Wilson was talking about. Mammograms, biopsies, blood tests. She hadn’t actually said the word yet but Juliet knew what she was thinking. Cancer.
Juliet was struggling to get past that word. The word was stuck in her head, making it very difficult to concentrate on everything else Dr Wilson was telling her. The word was also stuck in her throat, making it difficult to breathe. Perhaps she’d feel better if that word was out in the open.
‘You think I have cancer?’
Saying it out loud didn’t improve matters much. She was breathing now but the tightness in her chest had been replaced by nausea.
Dr Wilson’s reply didn’t ease her fears. ‘I think this lump is different from the fibroadenomas you already have. It’s presenting more like a tumour because it’s growing rapidly and I don’t like that. I think we need to get as much information as we can to determine what we’re dealing with but, remember, not all lumps are malignant.’
Juliet nodded but nothing else changed?she still felt nauseous, she still had a new lump in her breast.
‘Do you want to call someone now? Get someone to drive you to the breast-screening clinic?’ Dr Wilson asked.
‘No, I’m okay, I’ll drive myself,’ Juliet replied, thinking that she needed to get through the mammogram as quickly as possible to make sure she was in time to collect the children from kindy and school.
‘Okay. But can you arrange for someone to drive you to the biopsy? Your chest is likely to be quite sore once the local anaesthetic wears off and you’d be wise not to drive.’
Juliet nodded and left Dr Wilson’s surgery with referrals for the mammogram and the biopsy and a follow-up appointment for two days hence. The receptionist would ring her with a time for the biopsy.
The mammogram was not the horrific experience she had been anticipating, judging from comments she’d heard from other women over the years. It was uncomfortable but in the scheme of things it was bearable.
Maybe she was in shock, numb to what was happening around her. She felt as though she was in a nightmare. The whole day had a surreal quality to it and she half expected one of the children to wake her up at any minute. Trying to take on board everything that she was being told was proving difficult when she felt as though she was wading through thick fog. Nothing was making sense. Was it really possible that she had cancer?
She tried to think through the situation but it was virtually impossible, partly because she had no facts yet and partly because she couldn’t believe it was really happening.
She got dressed after the mammogram and hoped she was giving all the right responses as the technicians gave her more information, but her mind had already moved on to the next day and to the arrangements she would have to make. There was a message on her phone with the appointment time for the biopsy. Who would drive her to her next appointment? Perhaps she should take a taxi. Who could she ask to collect the children? She knew that this might only be the beginning of a host of favours she could need from people. If there was bad news then Dr Wilson was right?she was going to need support. Where was this going to come from?
She put those thoughts to the back of her mind while she drove to the kindergarten to collect Edward, focussing on the road and on getting there safely.
Edward’s face lit up with a delightful smile, Sam’s smile, when he saw her waiting to collect him—it was
