(Kelsey Malvay/ Real Simple) — As a young, healthy woman, I’d admittedly never put much thought into being diagnosed with breast cancer until I spent a week in back-to-back doctor’s appointments, clinical breast exams, and ultrasounds. Let’s back up, shall we? I went to my gynecologist for an annual checkup in May, when my doctor felt something abnormal during my breast exam. “I’m almost positive it’s nothing, but I’m going to order an ultrasound just to be safe,” she said. “Can you feel how this area is a little different?” (Honestly? No. I’d never thought of doing a self-exam, so my breasts’ topography was foreign terrain.)
I booked my ultrasound a few hours before my fiancé and I were supposed to take off for a relaxing trip to Hawaii. While my ultrasound showed the area in question to be just fine, a scooch of the transducer wand showed a darker, irregular area that the radiologist rated a BIRADS-4 and said should be biopsied when I returned from my trip. (For those of you who are unfamiliar with radiology, that’s not a good thing.) Suffice to say, the bulk of my “relaxing” Hawaii trip was spent feeling like upcoming milestones, like my 30th birthday and 2023 wedding, weren’t guaranteed. It was terrifying.
I am so thankful that, ultimately—after many, many appointments, second opinions, and third opinions—my BIRADS-4 rating was downgraded to a BIRADS-1 (a false positive, if you will). However, I know that’s not the case for anyone. (Who knows? Future me isn’t exactly clear either.) (…)