Smooth

There was a time in my life (think mid '80s) when I thought it was cool to have unshaven legs. I was dating a guy who saw a crunchy biker girl and he made an offhand comment that it was great that she didn't shave her legs. So I tossed my razors and for a few years there, I was furry-legged.

But even then, I didn't consider for a single moment not shaving my armpits. I mean, really. Who wants fuzzy pits? Not I. And I never understand why those women on Survivor don't at least go in for a waxing before filming starts.

So please don't think I'm compulsive or anything, but I pretty much shave my armpits every day in the shower. Maybe in the winter I skip a day or two, but with the warm summer weather and t-shirts and swimsuits and all, it's just better not to be fuzzy. Consequently, I'm pretty familiar with the geography of my armpits, as I always feel for stubble before completing my shower.

That marble rolling around under the skin of my left arm really surprised me. "Huh!" I thought. "Feels like a lymph node." Well, I did have a sinus infection. Maybe that was it. I'm sure nothing is wrong. I did have a fluttery panicky feeling for a minute, but it passed quickly, 'cause I'm generally an over-worrier. But I did remember from all those magazine articles I've read over the years that a lump in your armpit could also be breast cancer, so I headed to my gynecologist the next day for an exam.

"Probably hormonal," she said, "But if it's there in two weeks, let's get you in for a mammogram. Oh -- and I'm sure you felt this lump, too, in your left breast?" Uh, no. Hadn't noticed that. Felt like the rest of my breasts to me. "Probably just fibrous tissue." Wait and see. But only for two weeks.

Every day, pretty much all day, for the next two weeks, I felt that lymph node to see if it had changed. I tried not to. I tried to ignore it, but it was like a little magnet. One night, I made the mistake of googling "lymphoma" on the Internet. Lump in armpit? That's me! It was the first of many panicky moments induced by an Internet search.

But two weeks later, both the marble and the lump were still there. Unchanged. I headed to Huntsman Cancer Institute for my mammogram. The technician said it went great and I was a terrific patient and my mammogram looked perfect. "But they're going to want to do an ultrasound on that little bump in your armpit. It's probably just a cyst."

By the way, I do enjoy that reassuring kind of talk. I like honesty and directness, too, but in carefully measured doses. I already knew that bad stuff that it might be, so I was glad for all the sweetness and kindness.

The first doctor who looked at my ultrasound tried to be sweet and kind and reassuring, and almost sent me home, but at the last minute, decided it "might be a good idea" to have someone else look at the lump in my armpit. And that doctor's reassurance was like this: "Don't freak out until it's time to freak out." And she scheduled a biopsy.

Two days after that, when the phone rang and it was Huntsman, I breathed a huge sigh of relief. Finally, I thought. I can quit worrying and get on with my life! Unfortunately, the doctor said, she had bad news: I had metastatic adeno carcinoma. That meant that my lymph node had cancer cells in it and it was fighting cancer somewhere in my body, but they didn't know where: could be breast, lung, pancreas, colon, kidney, liver ... who knew? What a sinking feeling I had that day. Never had I thought, I hope it's breast cancer ... but it seemed the easiest of the lot, and thankfully, that's what it turned out to be.

On with the fight now.