There’s a Lump on My Breast

Around a year ago I found a lump on my breast. I’d had a clean mammogram a year earlier, but of course I needed to get it checked out asap. After another mammogram and ultrasound, it was determined to be a cyst that needed to be examined every six months. Half a year later at my next visit, the doctors recommended a biopsy, and those results landed me in a surgeon’s office, where I was being put on the fast track for the removal of a noncancerous lesion (atypical Ductal Hyperplasia, to be precise.) I sat in the surgeon’s office dressed in one of those gowns listening as he used big words like hyperplasia and scary ones like cancer. “Once we remove the lump and test it, we might find that you have cancer and will need further treatment,” he said. I listened from a place of deep stillness and silence within me. I opened my mouth to say, “You’re draining the energy from me; I can feel myself getting tired just being here.” He looked stunned and unaware of how he should respond. “This is the first time I’m hearing any of this,” I continued. “Not one doctor has mentioned anything close to what you are saying.” “You seem, well, overwhelmed might not be the right word, but something close to that” he responded.  “Yes, exactly, so will you please start again so I can now hear what you are saying?” He said it all again, and I asked a couple of questions about the unknown possibility of cancer, to which he assured me he could not know or answer until after the surgery. Finally, he told me that the surgery wasn’t urgent and that because I don’t have a history of cancer in my family, I really didn’t need to worry. He left for his next appointment, and the nurse handed me the post-visit paperwork. I couldn’t identify any of the big and scary terms on the papers, and I asked her to bring him back. “I’ll wait,” I said. Five minutes later he returned and I asked him to write down the terms he’d used. He then sat down, stating, “It’s good you have questions, and will go do research on your own. Please call me with questions.”

Now, let me say that I’m not a fan of our current medical system. I hate all the fucking drug commercials and side effects that we see on TV daily. I hate that this doctor didn’t suggest any alternatives to being cut, ask about my diet or lifestyle choices. And I hate that going to the doctor can feel so impersonal, like I’m being sold a car. I left there feeling angry and clear that I wanted to spit in this man’s face. Because so many doctors feel like they’re in the business of making profit (rather than building relationships and creating health), as a patient it’s important that I know myself and stay in my power. “The doctor” may be the authority figure in our traditional way of thinking,  but I’m not willing to hand myself over to someone who uses big scary words with a medical degree.

Since that appointment I have decided to learn my options, get a second opinion, and check with a homeopath/naturopathic practitioner before I move forward. I’ve also decided to up-level my clean living by removing any processed foods, meat, dairy, and sugar from my diet. This, along with health-centered meditation and eastern practices might work just as well as the suggested surgery. No, it’s not as fast a fix as cutting it out, but I believe that illness has root causes that need to be addressed. If we don’t do so, they’ll just resurface another time.

In the meantime, I spend several moments each day touching my right breast and sending light and love to the specific area.  At the end of the day, I will be the one who decides what I need and what’s the best plan of action for my body and health. And while looking outside the allopathic path may be considered a bold thing to do, it feels much less toxic than the fear that pervades our current medical culture. If I have to resort to plan B, so be it, but for now, I’ll take the power and the peace that comes with healing from within.

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