Chapter 1 The Cruncher It was as if I were being nagged by the media; every time I picked up a magazine or newspaper, there was an article about breast cancer. When I turned on the television or radio, early detection through self examination and mammography was being stressed. I had my first mammogram at age thirty-eight, and it wasn't too traumatic an ordeal. On my debut at Inland Imaging I joked with Jan the mammographer. As she led me to "The Cruncher," I could have sworn that I heard the theme song from the movie Jaws playing in the background. (She claimed she didn't hear it!) Paraphrasing Patsy Clairmont, one of my favorite writer-speaker-humorists, a mammography technician is someone who tries to make a saucer out of your cup! This is obviously a true statement. I was hoping my breasts would snap back into their natural state before I had to put on my bra and go home! If they didn't, just driving home could be a serious problem! When she was done, she showed me the finished product. It didn't look much like a picture of a breast to me. I am a very sensitive person, however, and didn't want to hurt her feelings, so I asked for an 8x10 for my husband. She laughed, probably thinking that I had escaped from an asylum somewhere. We have since become friends, and now she is convinced that I did. The mammogram turned out fine. I went on with my life, not really thinking too much about my breasts, except monthly, when PMS faithfully reminded me they were there and very much connected to my female plumbing. Every month I tell my husband, Jerry, "When I get to heaven, I'm decking Eve. This is all her fault. She and that wimpy husband! Furthermore, I hate snakes!" I live in a household of men: Jerry, my extremely tolerant and loving husband; Michael, our firstborn, perfectionist son; and David, our very entertaining, lastborn son. They don't quite understand this woman stuff, but they are very patient with me. David has used it to his advantage, however. When grocery shopping he has grabbed a bag of M & M's or Hershey Kisses, run them under my nose for the full effect of the aroma, and said, "You're MSPing Mom." (That's what he calls PMS.) "You really need these, don't you, Mom?!" I am ashamed to admit I have succumbed more often than not. Michael has bought me a big bag of M & M's and told me to save them for medicinal purposes. That has always seemed logical to me, they do, after all, resemble pills, so they must have some medicinal value. Donna's Ordeal Donna, my dear and faithful friend, had lost her mother to breast cancer when she was 14. So when one of her mammograms revealed three calcifications, painful memories of childhood losses came flooding back. She was filled with fear over the possibility that her two daughters would feel the same pain that she and her sisters experienced. At Donna's request, her family and friends were praying that when the needle localization was done prior to the biopsy, the calcifications would be gone. I met Donna and her husband, Chuck, at Inland Imaging for the needle localization. In this procedure a local anesthetic is used to numb the skin. The radiologist places a thin, hollow needle in the breast tissue, directing it toward the suspicious area seen on the x-rays. They then take two x-rays to ensure that the needle is as close to the suspicious area as possible. When they're sure that the needle is in the correct position, a skinny wire is threaded through the hollow needle. The radiologist then withdraws the needle, leaving the wire in place. Next, the patient is sent to surgery where the surgeon follows the wire to the area to be biopsied. The needle localization makes it possible for the surgeon to remove less breast tissue because the needle guides the surgeon to the suspicious area. It also makes it possible to biopsy those suspicious areas in the breast that cannot be felt. While Donna was being x-rayed to determine where the needle would be placed, Chuck and I sat in the waiting room. Chuck asked me when my last mammogram was done. "I think it was about five years ago," I answered. He told me with a firm southern drawl, "Get yourself up to the front desk and make an appointment now!" It didn't occur to me to put up a fuss, I knew I was overdue. I obediently made my appointment for the following week and returned to my seat next to Chuck. The technician came into the waiting room and asked for Chuck. I followed him as far as the doorway. The radiologist told Chuck that two of the calcifications had disappeared and the remaining one was too small to insert the needle. They called the surgeon, and he canceled the biopsy. We were overwhelmed with joy! Donna and I shed tears of relief as we hugged each other and thanked the Lord for answering our prayers. Judy, the mammographer who assisted the radiologist, was thrilled along with us. It was a happy morning and we left floating on cloud nine, knowing that we had actually experienced a miracle. The following week I rescheduled my mammogram, not wanting to experience "The Cruncher" during PMS soreness. I went in for my mammogram a week later. Judy and I talked about how rare it was for calcifications to just disappear as Donna's did. She told me how affected she was by Donna's and my devotion to each other and how the love and friendship we shared touched her heart. She laughed as I joked about "The Cruncher" throughout the exam and x-ray. When we were finished, she lead me into a little room to watch a film about self-examination. "What! No popcorn?" I complained. Judy laughed then disappeared. She reappeared after the film and told me I could get dressed and leave. The doctor's office would call me with the results. I sensed something. Judy was very professional, but I just knew in my gut that something was wrong. I went home and busied myself, pushing my negative thoughts away. I reminded myself that there had never been a case of breast cancer in my family and that neither my doctor, Judy, nor I felt a lump. It was just a routine procedure. Nothing to get worked up about. Statistics were in my favor. Within a couple of hours I received a call from Dr. Sestero, from Spokane Obstetrics and Gynecology. The x-ray showed a mass, a calcification, in one breast, so he recommended a biopsy. He suggested that I see Dr. Gary Matsumoto, the same surgeon who was to have done Donna's biopsy. Feeling numb, I hung up the phone. I can't say I was surprised because, somehow I knew. I called Dr. Walter Balek, our family doctor, and Dr. Phil Monroe, a family friend. They both agreed that Dr. Matsumoto was a good choice. It's amazing how a phone call can interrupt a silent afternoon in your home and permanently change your life. I was about to embark on an adventure, an episode in my life that every woman alive dreads.