it’s probably nothing (3 weeks post op)

It was nothing, yet it was something. Does that make sense?

A quick recap:

  • had routine mammogram
    • abnormal results
  • had diagnostic mammogram
    • micro-calcification cluster in right breast
    • needed to be excised
  • waited 3 weeks then had surgery

Now that you are sufficiently caught up to date, let’s carry on…

Fortunately the boob rock was benign. It took almost a week to find out the pathology reports. When the surgeon’s office called, I finally exhaled.

development of an under-reaction

Somehow I felt as though I disappointed the nurse who relayed the great news because I failed to jump up and down squealing with joy. Did I under-react? Erff. Just something else to obsess over.

I just spent the past month pondering my mortality. What damage would the boob rock do? Could I die or become terribly ill? Or, like everyone seemed to tell me, was it “probably nothing?”

In the end, I decided there would be nothing accomplished by worrying. In the end, I was helpless (gasp). I kept my emotions submerged in order to function.

emotionless me

Cancer is indiscriminate and takes no heed to my wants or desires. By the time results were determined, I was numb. Relinquishing control does not come easily to me. As a leader and a mom, I prefer to be in charge.

The problem is I can’t compartmentalize important things in my life. I’m an all or nothing kind of girl. No half-ass attempts allowed.

A strange depression settled in while I waited. I no longer wanted to blog, work out (partly due to recovery) or talk with friends. The only thing I wanted to do was listen to books on my audible account and paint.

mermaid rodeo.
mermaid rodeo.

what is it now?

I still hated it when people told me it was probably nothing. Yes! It came back benign. However, I am scarred both on the surface and inwardly from turning off my emotions.

My body was already far from perfect. Now I have a big divot where a walnut sized boob rock came out. Maybe it’s vanity speaking, but I don’t want to be disfigured.

Regardless, this was a significant life event. Fear did not overwhelm me and I am grateful for the benign results. I am healthy and slowly becoming happy again.

I started going to the gym last week. It felt amazing to jump around and sweat to music with my gym buddies. Today, I am dusting off my bike and heading on a short ride.

lesson learned; I like control

Part of my spiritual journey is learning to let go of things and just be. Why can’t these lessons be easier? When if ever will it ever come naturally to me?

I learned to never tell someone it is probably nothing when I can’t think of anything else to say. Seriously?? Why devalue someone’s ordeal? It is better to listen if needed, lend a shoulder to cry on and simply be available.



8 thoughts on “it’s probably nothing (3 weeks post op)

  1. crystal says:

    Thank you for the update Pretty Mermaid. I was wondering where you had swam off to =)
    I’m so glad “it was nothing.” But – of course it was something – and now you are somebody new: different, wiser and grateful. I love that you stated the lesson you learned! How often we devalue our friends’ pain. I can share with you a very valuable lesson that I’ve learned; please people, please… don’t say “Time heals all pain” or “It will get better” to someone who has just lost a family member… Especially a parent who has lost a child! Do Not say it. Do not let it cross your lips under any circumstances. Thank you (everyone) and thanks Miriam for sharing! ❤


    1. miriamgomberg says:

      Thanks so much for your kind words Crystel. Sometimes it is better to say nothing at all than to belittle another persons pain or sorrow. I don’t think people do it intentionally but it still doesn’t help the situation at hand. Back and enjoying the weather! M


  2. jerralea says:

    Thank you for sharing your experience with us. I hope I’ve never said, “it’s probably nothing” to someone’s problem. At least now I’ve learned not to say that. Probably the best thing to say, or at least what I fall back on, is to say, “I’m so so sorry you are going through this.”


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