Each year, we ladies are encouraged to attend an appointment where we are vaginally probed with scary-looking metal objects and swabs. Most of us, assume this to be the worse of it. What could possibly be worse, right? Here's your answer. Submitting to a breast exam only to find out that you have not one, but two lumps in one of your breasts.
Now, I am 32 and I'm thinking, "So, what. Even if it's cancer, they'll cut it out and that'll be the end of it. I mean, I'm 32. It's only the size of a pea. I'll live."
So when I share my lack of immediate concern with my care provider, I was surprised when she said, "You should still be concerned."
What do you say to that? I am not sure how I feel about it. I'll wait for the ultrasound before I get too worked up about it. At least, that was my intention until my dad and husband starting making more of it than they needed to. I probably should have kept it to myself.
Wednesday's test is a long way away. But, odds are good that it is nothing rather than something. And I like my odds.