I was jittery as I prepared to head out for procedure number 37; my second lymph node biopsy in three weeks. I could take yes or no to cancer. But, I knew I wasn’t prepared to get an inconclusive result again.

Before I could leave, my husband offered to drive me into NYC. We walked through the rain to pick up a bagel and coffee. Then, it was time for him to go to work and for me to go into the outpatient clinic.

Within 30 minutes my interventional radiologist introduced himself. I was shocked that he was black. I’ve had 22 doctors over the last 25 years and not one of them was black. The novelty of his appearance quickly faded as I wondered if he was going to answer the mystery about what is in my neck.

As I was wheeled into the operating room, I reminded myself to stay calm, breathe through the pain, and don’t move no matter what happens. So I didn’t flinch as the numbing medication burned under the skin, the needle tip popped through the muscle in my neck, or the spring needle core biopsy device snapped. I also ignored the second doctor holding the probe firmly at the base of my jaw, the needle pressing against my carotid artery and the blood dripping on my pillow and gown.

Within 30 minutes I was in the recovery room waiting to get released. I walked out with a very visible bandage near my chin that made me feel self-conscious on the way home.

I stared at myself in the mirror when I got home and thought of a Maya Angelou quote, “I can be changed by what happens to me. But, I refuse to be reduced by it.” So I’ll wear my bandage with my head held high because I’m in a fight for my life. There’s no time for vanity.

#biopsy #lymphoma #chronicpain #autoimmunedisease #chronicillness #spoonie #invisibleillness #WomensHealth #cancer