Exactly 8 months 2 days after I got back the worst test results of my life, I celebrate my birthday today with family and friends who are family... it's a birthday in the real sense of the word - it's a rebirth after fighting one of the toughest fights of my life with Ashvek always by my side. It's the beginning of a new life with Manasvi guiding the path ahead - same as she illuminated the dark days gone by. It's also a day to be thankful for my 2 sets of parents - who together underwent the angst of my being reborn these last months. And finally to celebrate with amazing people who always have our back - just because I can celebrate another birthday! What happened those days you ask? Let me tell you a story...
End of Dec 2017 was a flurry of activities for me - a busy job, out of station trainings, holidays with friends and family, party planning (because well Dec you know). In the middle of all this normal craziness that personifies a typical working 30 yr old mum I had a gynaec appointment as a follow-up. Way back (or that's how it seems in hindsight) in Aug I had discovered a lump in my right breast; small, hard but hard to pin down too. In the all-knowing cynical mind of mine it was a normal milk clot, bane of all feeding mothers. And while at 28 months Manasvi was no baby, I was emotionally unable to completely wean her off. With days passing, as they seem to do, very quickly, the lump grew in size. A quick look by mum when we were dressing for a function and she began pestering me to see the family gynaec. Prescient in a way only mums can be maybe... Mostly to get her off my back I scheduled a visit only to be told in clear terms that Manasvi had to be weaned off so the lump could get time to dissolve. We had a long chat - my daughter and I - where we composed long tearful tributes to the 'boo' (as she called her feed), sang paeans to it's glory and ended our last connection to her babyhood. 10 days of medically drying up my feed and 10 nights of managing a restless toddler who was used to feeding like a baby in sleep - it struck me that the lump stuck around. It didn't dissolve nor did it go away. A colleague asked me to go for a mammo but I preferred waiting to see what my doctor advised. Being a doctors daughter I knew how medicos hate self diagnosis and rightly so. Another visit and another set of medicines followed - this time to settle any infection in the lump. And this end Dec visit was to see the effect of the last rounds of meds if any on the lump (nada), to get reports of a scan prescribed at the last visit (boy oh boy did I underrate that) and plan future course of action.
End of Dec 2017 was a flurry of activities for me - a busy job, out of station trainings, holidays with friends and family, party planning (because well Dec you know). In the middle of all this normal craziness that personifies a typical working 30 yr old mum I had a gynaec appointment as a follow-up. Way back (or that's how it seems in hindsight) in Aug I had discovered a lump in my right breast; small, hard but hard to pin down too. In the all-knowing cynical mind of mine it was a normal milk clot, bane of all feeding mothers. And while at 28 months Manasvi was no baby, I was emotionally unable to completely wean her off. With days passing, as they seem to do, very quickly, the lump grew in size. A quick look by mum when we were dressing for a function and she began pestering me to see the family gynaec. Prescient in a way only mums can be maybe... Mostly to get her off my back I scheduled a visit only to be told in clear terms that Manasvi had to be weaned off so the lump could get time to dissolve. We had a long chat - my daughter and I - where we composed long tearful tributes to the 'boo' (as she called her feed), sang paeans to it's glory and ended our last connection to her babyhood. 10 days of medically drying up my feed and 10 nights of managing a restless toddler who was used to feeding like a baby in sleep - it struck me that the lump stuck around. It didn't dissolve nor did it go away. A colleague asked me to go for a mammo but I preferred waiting to see what my doctor advised. Being a doctors daughter I knew how medicos hate self diagnosis and rightly so. Another visit and another set of medicines followed - this time to settle any infection in the lump. And this end Dec visit was to see the effect of the last rounds of meds if any on the lump (nada), to get reports of a scan prescribed at the last visit (boy oh boy did I underrate that) and plan future course of action.
I went in after office and since I knew that the lump persisted, wasn't surprised when was advised a stat mammo. I am a doctors kid so I'm used to pretty much all tests being categorised urgent and important - this was on par past experience. The first inkling I had of something worrying was when the radiologist (highly respected, very well known and hugely experienced) kept her clinic open late for me. (Even though she was my father's friend, in my experience, this enables you to get to head of the line not keep the entire clinic open. That last bit is reserved for strictly family and I def was not related to her). I rushed to her all apologetic to have ruined her Tue evening (ok post 9 pm counts as night) plans and was made to undergo a scan and a mammo. For the uninitiated a scan is where they run a scope over your body and is used for quick checks inside the body (think kidney stones, baby photos and gas clouds) whereas in a mammo the breast is sandwiched between two plates and an X-ray is taken. (Since X-ray exposure is harmful most good doctors don't prescribe mammos until something is suspected). Post mammo was my second inkling of things not being right - I was asked to come back immediately in the morning for a biopsy. Wow! What's that? All notions of no self diagnosis flew out the window and what followed was a night of frantic Googling. And that ladies and gentlemen was our introduction to the world of Cancer...
