If you missed it, it was heartbreaking. Just before the Ref made his call, he polled the “judges.” The male (I have no idea who that dude was) was adamantly opposed to her keeping her name (shocking), Kelly Ripa was on the woman’s side (yay Ripa!), and Demi Moore sided with the man because he was “allowing” her to keep her name professionally. Then. THEN! Kelly heard Demi’s reasoning and CHANGED HER MIND! All three judges said she should change her name because it means she loves him, she’s proud of him, they’re a family, it’s tradition. All the same bullshit. I’m sorry, but it is. Every person can do what they want with their name and it doesn’t weaken any of those things. They’re good reasons if someone uses them to make their OWN decision. They’re bullshit if outsiders impose those things on someone else.

I was thoroughly impressed when the Ref went against the popular vote and gave the win to the wife. He said her husband had a strong, smart, independent and beautiful wife, he should be proud of her and not worry what she’s called. Go Ref! Except wait, what’s this? Booing from the crowd, ridicule from the judges? Kelly Ripa even said something like, “keep your name in your professional life, but use his in your real life.” Because your professional life isn’t real, and because really, you’re his wife and should have his last name. Barf.

And wouldn’t you know it, the Ref changed his mind. I know most of you don’t get as passionate about this issue as I do, but I honestly felt sad, and yes, even a little heartbroken, watching this unfold. I know there are bigger, more important issues in the world, and there are even much larger and more dire women’s issues I care about. But seeing how clouded so many peoples’ thinking is about this, it honestly makes me feel so defeated sometimes.

Also yesterday, pre-braless-sleeping, I had an appointment with a breast specialist and her PA. They asked a lot of questions and did a full breast exam, then poked and prodded my lump for awhile (until they saw me cringing in pain and decided they had felt enough), then we talked and looked at pictures taken at my biopsy and we were done. Except for the part where I had to wait 15 minutes in an exam-room-turned-office for a perhaps-incompetent employee to try to figure out how and when to schedule my followup biopsy and consultation. All in all, it went well though.

The most interesting part was discussing my family’s medical history. I recently learned that a male on my dad’s side of the family has had breast cancer. How I never knew this before, I really can’t imagine. When I told the doctor and PA this, they said it’s very important that this male relative get genetic testing. If he has a certain gene mutation that can lead to increased risk for breast cancer, I could have it, too. But they need to test him first. I thought this might be an arduous task, getting all this testing taken care of on someone that’s not me. But after one phone call I found out that a) he already had the testing done, and b) he doesn’t have the gene mutation!

I called to share this great news with my mom, and she informed me that she too had some genetic testing done when she was dealing with some other health issues, and she doesn’t have the gene mutation either! Which means I’m free and clear on BOTH sides of the family, which is extremely good news. Certainly doesn’t mean I’m at no risk for breast cancer, but I definitely don’t have a certain gene mutation that would make it much more likely. Yay for less risk of cancer!

So I think for now I can put this boob saga to rest. I have that followup biopsy and consultation in six months, but that’s just to make sure the lump hasn’t changed or grown. Then it’s back to self-exams and a doctor-facilitated breast exam at my annual checkup.

Before I close this chapter, here are the morals of the story:
1) Women, do breast self-exams! I found my own lump before any doctor did.
2) Get yourself into a doctor to check out anything suspicious. It’s the worth the time, money and even the potential pain.
3) Ask about your family’s medical history. I learned so much in the last couple days that I should have known before I had all these appointments. It would have been extremely useful to the doctors.

*Ok, maybe not so quick, afterall.

My doctor’s office finally called back this morning. The Giraffe was upset that they didn’t call immediately last week, but I chose to believe what Angiela said—if it was bad news, they’d make a point to call right away. No call means better news.

The person who called me said “no cancer” and let me know that I’d need to follow up with a breast specialist. My doctor wants me to do this because of the history of cancer (including breast) in my family. So I expect to learn more about what the lump is and how to proceed from here at that appointment (not yet set). I’m very happy about this news and feel like it was all worth it to have peace of mind.

Despite the great news and the relief, I’m going to complain about something. It’s about how this boob thing is interfering with my Couch to 5K goal. I did the first workout of the first week on Saturday, February 28, and I haven’t been able to run since then. I was naive enough to think I’d be able to go for a jog THE DAY OF my biopsy, which was just stupid. Then I thought maybe later that week—if I could get the second workout in by Thursday, I wouldn’t be behind. When that didn’t happen, I thought I’d just do two workouts in a row on Saturday and Sunday. But Saturday my boob hurt so bad, I had to hold it with one hand the whole time I went for a walk with the Giraffe. Definitely no running.

On Friday I had called the place that did the biopsy to see how long I should expect to have pain, and I was told up to two weeks. Fun. But they said I could run if I could stand the pain and I won’t do any damange. Too bad I’m a wuss and so cannot stand the pain. I’m still showering with a bathing suit top on because the weight my own boob is too much. So running? With all the jiggling? No thanks. To be honest, it’s not a horrible pain, more like a discomfort that constantly reminds me of what went on there.

But. I think I’m going to try to get back on track this week. I adjusted my running schedule to still fit all the training in before the 5K I want to run in May, so it’ll be a little more intense, but I can do it barring any more setbacks. I wouldn’t call myself a severly dedicated person, especially when it comes to fitness. I don’t often set fitness goals because I know I won’t want to follow through on them. But damn it, I set this goal, and now I want to achieve it. To have such a big set back at the very beginning has been very discouraging for me. On the verge of tears discouraging.

The good news is that Emily, my sister who is training in the same way for the same run, has a big ugly blister on her heel and isn’t any further along than me. It’s mean to be happy about her blister, but I admit, it did make me feel a little better.

Plus I was recalling things I’d heard from other people about how doctors deal differently with patients who have insurance and those who don’t. If, after writing that post, I had heard a lot of stories from you guys about how, Yes! Doctors totally do that! I would have called and investigated a little more. But instead I heard a resounding, YES! Without a doubt, get the biopsy! And I agree.

Next Tuesday I’ll be naked from the waist up with a needle in my numbed left boob. Woohoo! I’ll let you know how it goes.

In December I was laying in bed on my right side, reading a book. I had my left arm propped up on the side of my left boob to better hold the book, and I noticed a pain. Hmm, my boob kind of hurts, that’s odd. So I felt around a bit, and sure enough, a lump. I showed the Giraffe who thought I should get myself to to the doctor that very second, but I waited and had my sister check it out for me the next time I saw her. She said it was probably ok to wait until my doctor appointment in mid-January. Well, you know how that went, and I ended up not seeing a doctor until mid-February.

The doctor felt the lump during my breast exam, but seemed very unconcerned. She had me set up an appointment for a breast ultrasound, explaining that it felt more solid than cancerous lumps usually feel, and that the ultrasound should tell us what we need to know.

This afternoon, I went into the Cancer Center downtown (that’s intimidating!) and was ushered into a small room to change into a gown from the waist up. By the way, most unflattering gowns ever invented.

(Could I look any wider?)

In the exam room, they looked at my breasts, felt for the lump and marked it with a pen. Then they propped me up so my left breast was easily accessible, squirted it with warm gel, and put the ultrasound wand to work. The screen looked like nothing to me. I have no idea how they can tell anything from this mess:

(Yes I grabbed my camera and took that when the technician left the room for a moment.)

After the technician showed the doctor (who I never even met) the scans, she told me they were inconclusive.

“The doctor wants you to have a mammogram to get a better look.”
“Um, today?”
“Yep. I’ll get the room ready and we’ll do it right now.”

Three minutes later and I was face-to-face with a big shiny mammogram machine. Oddly, I wasn’t really nervous. I asked her how long I’d be smooshed, and she said no more than 20 seconds. That sounded tolerable. She positioned my left breast on the shelf of the machine, lowered the top plate, walked away to push a button, the machine made a noise for about five seconds, and it released my boob. When it was done, I literally asked if that was it because I didn’t believe it was that easy. She had to do another one with my breast in sideways, and that was a bit more uncomfortable, but still very tolerable. When she told me that the side scan wasn’t good enough and we’d have to do it again, I admit, I was a little annoyed. But truly, the mammogram was nothing like I expected based on horror stories I’d heard. Supposedly breast size makes a difference, but for anyone with a D-cup, I can assure you, it’s not bad! In fact, because the top plate is clear, I was more fascinated by the sight of my pancaked boob than I was worried about pain.

Anyway! The unseen doctor was shown the results of the mammogram, and when the technician returned, I was told that I’d need a biopsy. They think it’s a fibrous mass, and they want to do a biopsy to rule out anything worrisome. A biopsy yo! A mother fucking needle! IN MY BOOB! My mother, who has had myriad health problems in her 49 years, has never even had a breast biopsy. I’m 29 and next week I’m gonna have a needle in my boob. A needle that will take a piece of boob away with it! The ultrasound and the mammogram didn’t scare me. This scares me. Not to mention, for the last couple months I was pretty confident there was nothing to worry about. Just a gut feeling. Now even my gut is a little worried.

So here’s where I need advice. Part of me thinks that a lot of this is happening because I handed over an insurance card when I checked in. If I didn’t have insurance, would they have done an ultrasound AND a mammogram AND request a biopsy? Do they just assume my insurance will cover it, so run all the tests in the world. No problem! If insurance really did cover all this, I wouldn’t worry, but if you remember, I have a high-deductible plan, meaning I’m going to be paying for most, if not all, of this myself.

If I were to call and explain that and ask if this biopsy is absolutely necessary, would they tell me the truth? Should I do that? There is some history of breast cancer in my family, and that makes me not want to mess around here. But how do I determine if this is really necessary and worth the cost? Do I just trust what the doctor (who I never met!) says and get it done whatever the cost?

- I started the job in early December.
- I filled out a billion kinds of paperwork to get on the company’s insurance plan and sign up for a Health Savings Account.
- The new plan is regional and doesn’t include places near my home (I commute over an hour now), so I asked around at work to find a new doctor.
- Made an appointment for mid-January with Doctor A.

- Doctor A called to reschedule a week in advance because someone broke a foot or something. New appointment was made for mid-February.
- I told them my birth control would run out before then, so I really needed to get in sooner. They had no earlier appointments.
- I asked if I could get an advance on birth control to get me through the month. Shot down.
- So I called my old doctor’s office (Doctor B) to see if they could help.
- Doctor B, plus the two PAs that I usually saw, had left the practice. I had been assigned a new doctor (Doctor C) at some point that I had never met.
- In the meantime, back in November, I had seen Doctor D about a stomach problem. I went to her because she was closer to work than Doctor B was at the time. And I really liked her. But she didn’t prescribe me the birth control, so I couldn’t call on her for a refill.
- Finally, after some finagling (begging), Doctor C, the one I never met, agreed to give me one more refill on my birth control.

- At the beginning of February, I learned that there’s some partnership that allows me to see certain doctors near home. One of them happened to be Doctor D, the one I saw once and liked.
- I made an appointment with Doctor D for early February.
- That same day, Doctor A, who had already rescheduled once, called to reschedule again! I said forget it, cancel the appointment because I’m going to Doctor D!
- Appointment with Doctor D last Thursday was fine. She wrote me a prescription for birth control and Ambien.

- Friday I tried to pick up my prescriptions. TRIED! Keyword.
- I picked out a cute stuffed giraffe (Maury) to give The Giraffe for Valentine’s Day and brought it to the pharmacy counter with me.
- Employee Z rang me up, but just after I swiped my Health Savings Account card, I realized I couldn’t pay for Maury with the HSA.
- Employee Z said to fear not, the card would reject anything not medical-related. Except not. It totally rang up the whole order.
- I didn’t want to deal with the paperwork it would take get Maury off my account, so I asked her to void the transaction. She did.
- She rang me up again with just the prescriptions. This time it only covered $50.
- I figured the the other transaction was still pending, so it showed as money spent. No biggie, void the transaction and I’ll come back in a couple days.

-Went back on Sunday and Employee Y rang me up. Rejected. I explained the whole thing to her, but she said there was nothing she could do. I left.
- I tried to check my HSA account online when I got home, but it demanded I give it a username.
- I was never assigned a username, and I couldn’t find anything in my paperwork that described how I might find or get one.
- I called customer service, which was of course closed.

- Monday I called customer service again. She told me my username as if it was supposed to be common knowledge. Like no big deal, we never gave this to you, but YOU SHOULD KNOW IT!
- I managed to log in, and oh look, $249 available. Excellent!

- I stopped at the pharmacy Tuesday (yesterday) and tried again. Employee X rang me up.
- Card declined. I begged him to help me figure out why. He said call the bank. I said call the manager.
- Manger comes and tells me the same thing. Call the bank.
- But I charmed her with sappy kindness and a loooong explanation of my journey so far, and she said she’d take a look.
- Eventually she was able to tell me that it was one of three things: 1) No approved items were purchased [not true since it was all prescriptions], 2) No pre-authorization was available [this wasn't necessary], or 3) No funds available on card [my online account said I had plenty available].

- I need to start a new pack of birth control Friday morning, and I’ll be out of town from Thursday morning until Friday night, so things are getting dire.
- I called the HSA customer service this morning. Explained the whole story.
- The HSA employee explained that I had a ZERO BALANCE! in my account because of two transacation from last Friday. The two transaction that were voided at the pharmacy.
- She explained that it takes about 7 days for voided transactions to go through, meaning I have no access to my money until Friday or Saturday, which is too late.
- I asked her why my online account shows $250, but she sees $0.
- Oh, they’re just having a little problem with their website right now.
- Great.
- I asked how I will know when the money is back in my account (since the website clearly has no idea) because I am NOT going back to that damn pharmacy just to get shot down again damn it.
- She had no good suggestions.

I’m starting a new kind of birth control, and I don’t want to start incorrectly, so I’m just going to have to suck it up and pay for the prescription out of pocket in order to get it on time. The problem is that my new insurance is a high-deductible plan, meaning I basically have to pay for everything myself up to a certain amount. The HSA is nice because the company contributes to that, so I’m spending their money, not mine.

So when I buy this birth control on my own dime tonight, it’ll be close to $200. Just to not get pregnant.

(This is Maury, the giraffe that caused all the problems.)

But of course I didn’t mean that I actually wanted to have a baby. I’ve always wanted to adopt, and I still do if circumstances allow someday. What I meant was that it seems more realistic than it ever has (which isn’t saying much) that someday I might actually be ready to be a mother. As much as Brady has stolen my heart, my uterus is still not calling to me.

Later when I recalled the conversation, without context, to someone else, that person commented how until Brady was born, Andrea never thought she’d love being a mom. There’s just something about carrying a child for 9 months and giving birth to it that creates a deep instinctual love.

“Don’t you think it could be the same with an adopted child?” I asked.

“You can still feel that, but it’s not quite the same. Andrea can’t stand to be away from Brady for long.”

“But don’t you think I’d feel the same way with a child I adopted?”

“Maybe…”

I think what that conversation proved to me was that no matter what, some people just won’t be as excited about me adopting children as they would be about my birthing them. I’ve noticed this before. Little glimpses of pure joy when someone thinks it’s possible I might procreate.

One relative’s unfettered joy when I said future pregnancies are not entirely ruled out.

Another’s comments about how they’re sure I’m going to change my mind about having babies after seeing me with Brady.

They always try to backtrack when I remind them that adoption is my first and most likely choice, assuring me that they’re just as excited about that idea, and they’ll of course love my children exactly the same. But I can tell there’s a difference.

I’m not sure yet if this is a bad thing, an acceptable thing, or just a complete non-issue. Do I care that they’re eyes light up when they think for a second that I’ve given up on the whole adoption dream and replaced it with the possibility of pregnancy? Does it bother me that they can’t muster the same genuine thrill when I talk about adoption? I don’t quite know.

Part of it might be that I’ve talked about adoption for sooo looong, that the idea of changing my mind shocks them into excitement. In fact, I bet that’s a lot of it. Yet, still. Still, there’s something else there. I just have to decide what that means to me.

(Just to be clear, I’m not at all talking about the Giraffe here. After re-reading, I worried maybe someone would think that.)

I only had one client last night, but we were able to spend over an hour working on her resume. I think I gave her some valuable tips, and I recommended she make the changes and bring it back for another look. Plus, I learned something cool from her too. She told me that she had been using Women for Hire to get resume and interview tips. I hadn’t heard of it, but turns out Women for Hire is pretty cool. It’s all about helping women with their careers, as you’d imagine. There’s advice and job boards and resume tips and templates and more.

Unfortunately I think women don’t help other women enough. Instead we often tend to betray each other for our own gain. And I’m sure you all know the statistics about women still making less than men for the same jobs (which, wow, bullshit right?). Add on the fact that the economy is sucky right now, and it’s harder than ever for women (and everyone) to get adequate work, let alone fulfilling careers.

So even though I haven’t actually used anything from Women for Hire yet (and I’m not at all getting paid in any way for any of this), I thought I’d pass it along. Maybe it will help someone else. I love the idea that one woman desperately looking for a job told me, her resume coach, about this resource, and I’m sharing it with you, and maybe one of you will benefit from it somehow. Women helping women. Love it.

Apparently I’m a total slob on the weekends, when I normally see my family. I wear heels to work on a pretty regular basis, though I do admit I prefer flats during warmer weather. But I guess it’s been a really long time since my family saw me in anything but flats, flip flops or tennis shoes.

Next they’re going to act surprised to see that I’m wearing a bra.

(Just kidding. I wear one every day. Gotta keep the girls from introducing themselves to my waist any time soon.)

[Want to read more on this topic? I've written about it here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here and here.]