More inappropriate blogging.

The results:
Just to be clear: “There are no signs of breast cancer.”

Yesterday I experienced two significant milestones in the life of woman. (No, they weren’t making out with a girlfriend “just to try it” or breaking into my husband's e-mail account to find what needs finding ---check and check.) The first one is a matter of life and death and the second is an issue of sperm and egg.

Last week during my appointment with Jodi I showed her a lump on the side of my breast---it felt more like a jelly bean than the pebble I was supposed to be looking for---and after she felt it she sent me to get a breast ultrasound at the York Hospital Breast Care center (since I’m still too young for mammograms…and anal). We both agreed that it was probably a lymph node (after the appointment I found a similar “lump” on my other breast) but since it has been there for more than a year she decided I should get it checked out.

Yesterday I went in and, as expected, it was indeed a lymph node. In the week leading up to it I wasn’t worried at all and when Dan asked if I wanted him to come with me I told him it absolutely wasn’t necessary. (I don’t worry about big things like this; they are way too far out of my control. Instead, I focus on my attention on little things like am I sure I turned off the stove? and was that store clerk scowling at me because I somehow offended her with the way I said “plastic” instead of paper?) I wasn’t going to waste an ounce of energy worrying about breast cancer and in the end I didn’t need to.

I went into the exam room, asked “Diane” if I was supposed to tie the robe in the front (which made sense but still caused a moment’s pause), laid down on the table and got a breast ultrasound. (They really love that jelly don’t they? We were dealing with a particularly small area, and still I needed two hand cloths to wipe myself down.) Within minutes she was able to see that it was a lymph node and all was well…

Except, the room had a sadness to it. All I could think of was that on that examination bed, in that tiny room, many women had received very different news. I’m sure many women hate that room. (I, myself, was grateful that this ultrasound was taking place in the Breast Care center and not in the radiology department where I first learned I was miscarrying.) Though Diane was very warm, this room was small and there was sad daytime radio playing. A husband or partner would barely be able to fit in there to hold a hand. I’m glad I don’t have to hate that room.

As uneventful as the breast ultrasound was (thankfully), it was still an event; my first beyond-the-hand breast exam, my first “lump.” Sitting in the waiting room, Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s words “Light tomorrow with today” on the wall, I realized just how significant this moment is for a woman, particularly for the one woman in the U.S. being diagnosed with breast cancer every three minutes and the one women who will die of breast cancer every 13 minutes (according to Susan G. Komen for the cure ®). I am fortunate that things went as they did, though keenly aware that I’ve entered a phase of life where statistics such as these resonate a bit more.

The second event, well…I wasn’t going to write about this one. I mean I really, really wasn’t going to write about this one because I’m pretty sure it falls under the category of TMIPBV (too much information promoting bad visuals), plus it's pretty effing embarrassing (even for me). But I can’t help myself. Too ripe.

Yesterday, I got sized for a diaphragm.

Rim Shot sound bite Cool Sounds sound bites

I told Jodi when I went in yesterday that my sisters had been busting my balls about the whole thing (Mattie said, “How thick is this thing---is it like a tire?”) and she said, “Were they calling you June Cleaver?” (No, they had not made that particular joke. Thanks, Jodi.)

I have always been anti-diaphragm for a reason based in staunch feminist principles: my mom had one. There are just certain things you don’t want to have in common with your mom.

But I was out of options. I loathe condoms and last winter when my estradiol level registered at below 10, the level of postmenopausal women, I hurried off my birth control pills and swore them off completely. Plus, I don’t buy organic, hormone-free meat and dairy products so I can ingest the hormones directly. I’m getting crunchy in my old age and I just want my body to perform at maximum capacity and have it do what it does without altering its natural processes. That said, I don’t want my body doing what it does with Dan’s body, to create a baby. I know that some would argue that my not having a child during these “child-bearing years" is going against my body’s natural processes. I understand this and will take the risk---and as I’ve read it, there are risks--- to settle what needs settling before baby-making.

I actually went into Jodi’s office last week planning to ask her about getting an IUD. While waiting, I sat in her office playing with the plastic Mirena uterus and trying to figure out how a miniature pogo stick could prevent pregnancy. I wasn’t crazy about the idea of an IUD. I don’t know much about it but the risk of a punctured uterus frightens me a bit, especially since my uterus has already been put through the wringer so to speak. I also don’t dig the idea of the heavy bleeding and cramping associated with the ParaGard IUD or the synthetic progesterone released from the Mirena IUD to combat those side effects. (These are the only two IUDs available in the U.S.)

But I had made up my mind to go for it anyway (what choice did I have?) until Jodi told me that getting an IUD was a good option if I was sure I didn’t want children for the next two years since it’s more of a long-term birth control solution, and I felt a surprsing pang of sadness. I know right now I want to wait to have children; I don’t know what I’ll want next year or even next month.

Jodi (being Jodi) understood my ambivalence and pointed me in the direction of the diaphragm. (“If you can get over that mom thing it might make sense,” she said.) The pros: It’s not a mood-breaker since it can be dealt with hours before and hours after, I’m not messing with my body’s chemistry and there’s a third reason but it involves the word sensation so I’m going to leave it out.

Another benefit is that there’s still a potential element of surprise associated with the diaphragm. MayoClinic.com says that it is 84% effective though this increases if used properly and consistently. I like the idea that the possibility exists that something could happen without my planning it---that’s part of the fun of getting pregnant, the buzz of being late and wondering what if. (Jodi also said that it takes the decision out of my hands a bit; there’s some element of the “universe” telling me what is supposed to be. This is exactly what I wanted---though I couldn't articulate it---and exactly why I love Jodi. She also said that the world wouldn’t be populated without these types of birth controls---“when it fails, it's because people aren't using it”--- which made me laugh.)

So I went and got sized which is something I could only ever do with Jodi (and maybe Justin Timberlake). For the most part she stayed out of the room while I got acquainted (though she did offer to take a picture for the blog). She also had me stand up and walk around to be sure it was comfortable which felt like when you take those awkward mini-walks in a shoe store to see if a shoe fits properly. (I was looking for the shin-high mirror.) Awkwardness out of the way (and I think we're mostly past that part of the blog as well), she went over the facts with me.

You use it with spermicide (a word that cracks me up as it conjures images of sperm genocide…and who doesn’t like a little genocide humor?) so at least there’s another line of defense. Plus, I’m going to do a little research on the whole “Family Planning” approach (sounds very Suze Orman) which involves things like Basal Body Temperature and knowing when the moon is in the seventh house and Jupiter aligns with Mars, I think.

While it is so very hard to admit that I will be using a diaphragm (I haven’t picked it up yet), I’m hoping that maybe I’m at the forefront of some cool, retro trend that is making a comeback like stretch pants and cocaine. At some point people are going to realize birth control pills (and store-bought meat that contributes to girls getting a set of Double D’s at age six) are not good for them. (Though this will be the end of profit-driven medicine---swine flu vaccinations, anyone?---and thus the end of life as we know it, but that’s another entry.)

Maybe I’m a trend(re)setter. Maybe soon women will be knocking down their gynecologists’ doors for diaphragms and lining up at midnight for the latest models. They'll be available in lots of neat colors and will come with jewel-encrusted cases! Apple® will introduce the iPhragm!

I’ll just sit back fanning the flame of a “pregnancy epidemic!” and lining my pockets. Just thinking of it gets me in the mood (for something to happen up to 6-8 hours from now).