Get The Ink Out:

Heather Beyer’s story of finding a lump, going to urgent care, being told it’s nothing, only to find out later that it was something, struck a little too close to home.

While I do not have cancer and would never even pretend to know what Beyer is going through, I’ve had that gut-sinking feeling of finding a lump, then waiting to see the doctor, then waiting for an appointment with a specialist. All that without insurance (but that’s for another debate).

My thoughts revolved around: “But I’m so young.” “Why me?” “Will my boyfriend leave me?” “Oh, God, I’ll have to get a mastectomy.”

Over the top? Histrionic? Maybe, but at the time a possibility in my mind.

I wasn’t very consistent with doing self-exams, but one night while on the phone I figured I could check myself out. I know you’re supposed to do it in the shower and use soap, but I was all of 23 years old and thought I knew better.

Anyway, there it was, about 5 o’clock on my left breast. I got off the phone and ran to my best friend and roommate, Michelle. She calmed me down and helped me come up with the plan of action, namely, going to the doctor before completely melting down.

After a five-minute visit, the doctor recommended me to MemorialCare Breast Center in Fountain Valley. The center wanted me to wait almost a month for an appointment; I fought and got in two weeks earlier.

I added my then-boyfriend to my support team and dragged him to my appointment. He had a lovely time chatting with an older gentleman in the waiting room while I changed into a gown and waited, terrified, with the other ladies in the back.

Eventually my name was called. The technician was very nice and put me at ease. She explained what she was doing as she spread on self-heating jelly and did an ultrasound. She took a few pictures, then brought in the radiologist. They wanted to examine the lump some more, but it had moved (a good sign, the technician said). She asked me to find it, then made a joke that’s not fit to print. Inappropriate as it might have been to others, I laughed away the rest of my tension.

The radiologist did not find either of us funny.

In the end, the radiologist said my breasts are just lumpy.

Fast forward three years, and my doctor found another lump, in my right breast, about 3 o’clock. I asked about the one on the left breast and she consulted my file.

She decided I need another trip to the breast center.

Former Daily Pilot education reporter and now OC Bargainista columnist Candice Baker volunteered to go with me this time.

It was the same routine, but a different radiologist, who explained the breast is like a grapefruit or orange and has pockets of “pulp.” (He apologized for comparing them to fruit ... never mind the melon joke I had at the tip of my tongue.)

Some breasts are just pulpier than others, he said. If it bothers me, I can cut down on soy, chocolate and caffeine.

I thank my lucky stars that I’m OK, but I monitor those lumps and continue my self-exams the right way — soap, shower and everything.

JAMIE ROWE is a copy editor for the Daily Pilot. She may be reached at (714) 966-4634 or [email protected]. Squee is not so sure about having his icky boo yucky dog cousin Aurora visit for a whole week.