Regular readers of Little Merry Sunshine know that I recently had a too-close-for-comfort breast cancer scare. In the end, I had a benign papilloma, but throughout the process of multiple mammograms, ultrasounds, two biopsies, and a lumpectomy, there was no guarantee my story would have a happy ending.

Over the last four weeks, I’ve learned quite a few lessons. Six of those lessons stand out and I want to share them with you.

1. Sharing my story was vital. Not only was sharing my story cathartic for me, but it was educational for countless women. I can’t begin to tell you how many women have contacted me publicly and privately to thank me for demystifying the process for them because they’ve been terrified to get a mammogram.

Frankly, this is an area where the medical profession as a whole, and primary care physicians and OB-GYNs in particular, could do a far better job. I’ve never met a woman who was given pre-mammogram counseling to tell her what to expect, how much discomfort would be involved, that it was imperative to communicate with the mammogram technologist about your pain tolerance, that almost 100% of mammogram virgins get called back, and much more.

Breast health is a vital part of our overall health, yet there’s too much mystery surrounding it.

2. Honor my feelings. Yes, I’ve told you over and over again through my blog that I was focussed on all I have to be grateful for and that’s completely true. I truly was focussed on the bounty of gratitude in my life.

But I was also terrified as the process went along. I cried as I drove home from my ultrasound knowing that I was scheduled for two biopsies. I had a nightmare a few nights before my lumpectomy that the surgeon tried to kill me. When I saw my incision for the first time, shit got really real for me.

I allowed myself to feel my feelings, while at the same time keeping them in check and knowing that all the worry in the world wasn’t going to change anything. Because of that, I actively chose to focus on gratitude.

3. Don’t try to be a hero. My body is recovering slowly from all the squeezing, poking, prodding, needling, cutting, and anesthesia, not to mention the emotional toll it all takes. Everyone reacts differently to anesthesia. I have slept and slept and slept because that’s what my body needed.

I’m not depressed or avoiding my life. Quite the opposite; I want to get back to normal faster than possible. My body is my guide though. Don’t let anyone bully you into being the hero and showing how you can rally back seconds after your biopsy, lumpectomy, or mastectomy.

4. Get help and delegate. This is no time to bear the weight of the world on your shoulders. You are your #1 priority at this time, if at no other time. I delegated as much as I could off my plate including scheduling board committee meetings that are my responsibility to schedule, finding alternative rides for my mom (she doesn’t have a car and often relies on me for transportation), and much more.

I had systems set up for post-surgery in case it turned out to be more extensive than we expected. The good news is that I didn’t need those Plan B’s, but knowing I had them was priceless gave me peace of mind. I also reached out and got some counseling. It helped keep me centered and was priceless.

5. Ask every question until you feel you’ve got all the answers. I asked a million questions at every step of the process. Just like I was asked for my name, birthdate, doctor’s name, and what was happening a million times, I asked many questions over and over again.

Sometimes I asked repeatedly because there was just so much information that it was tough to take in. Other times, I asked multiple people the same question in order to obtain different perspectives.

Top-notch medical professionals will not make you feel like your questions are stupid and will give you the time you need to absorb all of the information. They know it’s scary and unknown. Some know the questions you’ll ask because they’re so common, but no two people react the same and no two people have completely identical questions.

6. Do not put off the scary tests. I should have had my first mammogram at age 40, but I waited until now when I’m 43. The reasons don’t matter, but some included being scared.

I got lucky and that’s the bottom line. I was lucky. There was no guarantee my papilloma would not be breast cancer.

Take a buddy with you if that will make life easier. The hospital is fine with this. Your buddy can usually sit with you until the moment of your exam or test.

But here’s the thing that I learned: I could either suffer through a bunch of feel-ups, mammograms, ultrasounds, two biopsies, and a lumpectomy now OR I could quite possibly lose my entire breast or worse later. It’s just like when your car makes a noise. Get it checked now and it’s no big deal and cheap to repair. Wait for six months and it’ll be something big, inconvenient, and expensive.

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