When someone says “it’s fine”, it’s never fine

LaurenTedaldi
Bullshit.IST
Published in
4 min readJan 17, 2017

“Don’t freak out but I’m going to see the doctor. I found a lump.”

Disclaimer: the guy in the background is not the guy in this story. He’s not even in Speedos.

I’d recently stopped breast feeding at night and my boobs hadn’t quite caught up so lying on my front was uncomfortable. After a couple of days, it still felt weird. Not sore. Just weird. After a bit of prodding, I found a lumpy bit. It was a Thursday. No panic yet, breast feeding can cause all sort of weird changes so I thought “I’ll give it a couple of days, maybe it’ll be fine by the weekend”. It wasn’t, so I told my husband I’d found something weird but I was getting the first appointment I could.

On the Monday I called the doctor for an appointment. “We don’t have any routine appointments today, is it an emergency?” My voice cracked (I was scared) as I said “I’m not sure. I found something and I need to come in to see if it is an emergency” the receptionist arranged for me to see the GP on the same day.

My GP was often very dismissive. When I went to him with a vomiting baby who wouldn’t stop crying (who, we later found out, was allergic to the dairy and egg in my breast milk), he said “babies cry and are sick, women (not parents) need to learn to deal with it”. He was a prick.

Anyway, I had my speech prepared. I took my genetic screening letter from the year before and I was all ready to convince him to refer me. But he didn’t need convincing. He examined me and fast-tracked me for an ultrasound and a biopsy. I was dumbfounded. He didn’t really know anything about the genetics. Most doctors don’t, I discovered. He even murmured something about the genes not mattering as they came from my father’s side (an incorrect opinion many doctors share). But he still looked concerned and still referred me.

So I wheeled us out (baby in tow, of course) and went to sit in the park. On the way, I started to lose it. So I repeated to myself “it’ll be fine, it’ll be fine, it’ll be fine” as I waited to go over the zebra crossing to the local park. I was convinced the van driver who let us cross could see my lip wobbling.

Ever had an argument with someone that ended with “It’s fine”? Or worse, just fine”? It’s not bloody fine, is it? So I don’t really know why I thought ‘fine’ was the result i wanted…

As all parks in London seem to be between April and September, the place was pretty busy. I found myself a spot near the hedges at the side of the park and, with baby having a nap, I laid out out our picnic blanket (a permanent item in the pram bucket), lay face down and had a little cry. There was a woman fairly close by, office worker on lunch probably, and a guy in Speedos (like I said, London in the summer) a bit further along.

She looked over and I pretended to read my book. “Please don’t come over, I’m fine” I thought. She was looking over again so I lay on my side so she wouldn’t see that I was holding my breath.

“Please come over, I’m not fine” I thought. I looked back at her. She looked me dead in the eye, nodded and walked over.

“I just wanted to come over…I thought I should say...” I steeled myself to explain that I was losing my shit over something that was probably nothing (but it turned out to be something) and she goes “…that man is masturbating!” And she left.

So did I.

It was a weird day. And it wasn’t fine.

I didn’t hang about getting my lump checked out. I’d had mastitis before (a nasty infection you can get when breast feeding that gives you lumpy boobs) and I knew it wasn’t that. Of course, I had some dodgy family history that meant I was a bit more alert than most people but, right up until I was told it wasn’t, I was (sort of) sure it was going to be nothing.

Most people find things that turn out not to be cancer. I won’t say that’s ‘nothing’ because the worry is awful. Even if you get told you’ve got an old sugar puff stuck to your skin from that time the baby lobbed their breakfast. It’s usually ok. But just in case it isn’t, go to the doctor.

No doctor has said “It’s going to be fine”. Not even one of my beloved nurses. And I don’t want to hear that because it might not be (and those words makes me feel like someone is just filling silence before they move on to something else to say, anyway).

But, if you do find something, whatever you find, really, go to the doctor. It’s important.

If you like any of my writing, pop a little click over the little heart at the bottom, would you? I need the validation only internet stats can give. Ta.

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LaurenTedaldi
Bullshit.IST

Ex-scientist, stalled writer, current mammy. Went on #maternityleave, ended up with #breastcancer. Not mutually exclusive, it turns out. Views my own.