Originally posted on CaringBridge: December 18, 2018, Updated 7/20/25

They told me it would hurt “like a mother.” That this needle would break me. They didn’t tell me how much love would show up in the waiting. Or that I’d cry in reindeer slippers and still feel like a badass.

Biopsy Day. The day they dig into your flesh looking for answers. The day you sit in a cold room, crying but not alone.

I expected pain. The kind that makes your eyes water and your hands clench the table. But lidocaine—God bless that stingy miracle—came to the rescue. I didn’t even feel the monster syringe that went in to suck out the bad stuff.

Moe, my tech, was gentle. Dr. Rassman, precise. And no one flinched when I shook and cried like I was cracking open.

There was a moment—hopeful, almost naive—when I believed the lump might be fighting back. I imagined it as brave tissue, standing its ground against the invader. But nope. The whole damn gang was bad. Not a freedom fighter in the mix.

Still, I refuse to be reduced to rogue cells. I’m more than a mammogram. And this breast cancer? It better know I don’t go down easy.

Now we wait. 48 hours. Results come Thursday. Until then, I’ve got chicken nuggets to sling and houses to sell. Life doesn’t pause, and neither do I.

One more thing: If you’re Googling breast lump symptoms, let me save you some time—nowhere does it say “feels like a jellyfish from hell.” Mine did. Painful, irregular, and insistent. It was my body screaming, “Go now.” And I’m so grateful I listened.

But here’s the truth: I didn’t get through the day because I’m strong. I got through it because love showed up—arms full of pink champagne, wine, and Angelo’s pizza. I’ve got a whole damn village, and no treatment is stronger than love. So yeah, I win.

(And yes, I wore my reindeer slippers. I regret nothing.)

Sometimes your body throws a tantrum because it knows you’re not listening. Sometimes love shows up with carbs and carbs save you. And sometimes bravery looks like crying while they stick you with a needle—and not apologizing for it.

Letter to Self

Dear Me,
You did it. You walked in scared and walked out with reindeer slippers and a village wrapped around you. Don’t forget how brave you are, even when your hands shake. Don’t forget how love carried you, even when your strength felt small. You’re more than your results. You’re more than your breasts. You are light, grit, and heart.
With deep love,
Me