All day yesterday, I was on pins and needles. My breasts were swollen again, warm to the touch, my skin was still slightly pitted. My husband couldn’t watch our baby as he had to get up early for work and my appointment was late in the day so she went with me. For an hour and a half, we waited in the room , she was the perfect distraction.
I had a list of the things I had been experiencing the last few weeks and the days in which they happened. I had worn a loose bra so there wouldn’t be extra lines dug into my skin (my right breast was now so large that it didn’t fit in any of my normal bras). When the doctor finally made it into the room and apologized for the wait, she complimented me on how beautiful my daughter is. I smiled. Usually I soak up this attention. My daughter is gorgeous (I might be a bit biased). She is one third of the light of my days.
But now was not the time to keep my waiting.
I told her about my list of symptoms and she looked it over. Then she had me lay back while she examined my breasts. “It could be Inflammatory breast cancer. Or it could be mastitis.” I told her about my bad family history of breast cancer. She smiled. “It’s rare that a woman of your age would have cancer, even with a strong family history.” I explained that that’s when it hit my family. And I rattled off statistics of IBC and how younger women are the ones hit most.
“I’m going to start you on some strong antibiotics. 500mg of Keflex, 4 times a day for 10 days. It will take you that long to get into the breast surgeon anyway. And if it is just an infection, this will clear it up before then.” I tried to explain that my gut told me this wasn’t an infection. She smiled again, “stay off Google honey. And good luck.”