A shock

I discovered a pecan-sized lump in my breast when I was pregnant with Gabriel. At the time, I wasn't alarmed. After all, I was in my early thirties, and because I was pregnant, my doctor speculated that it was milk-related.

But just in case, I had a mammogram (while nursing--ouch!!!) and two biopsies, and when I saw a specialist, she said I might want to have the lump removed when I wasn't breastfeeding anymore. So I didn't worry about it. In fact, I almost forgot about it.

It didn't bother me during my pregnancy with Paloma or while nursing her, but she quit nursing (completely and finally, though she still talks about it) in the last month, and all of the sudden, the lump is bothering me again, really sensitive and sore.

So at my OB appointment this week, I explained all of this to my doctor, and she decided to send me for an ultrasound to check it out. She said that if it's a cyst, it could be drained and that might relieve the pain. So I went downstairs to make the appointment; on the referral, the office had a name on it: "Lisa Kay Trent". As I entered a large, nice waiting room, my eyes were drawn to a large, framed color portrait of a young woman who looked very familiar. I sat down at the receptionist's desk, still looking at the picture. "I went to school with her!" The receptionist acknowledged me with a nod, but said nothing. "Her name was Lisa Freer."



Wait a minute. That looks like a memorial, with a framed 8x11 explanation to go with the framed picture on the wall.

The couple next to me with another receptionist started admonishing me, "Don't mess around with this. Keep after it. Don't take no for an answer." And explained their advice with an abbreviated version of their own breast cancer story.

But I couldn't fully pay attention to them. I was thinking, But I just saw Lisa, it wasn't that long ago, at our 10-year reunion. She was looking great, and I was thrilled to hear she was an attorney and doing well.

I had known her since 7th grade. We'd been in band together. We'd done a report together on Sandra Day O'Connor.

"She isn't DEAD!?"

The receptionist answered, "Yes, she is."

After I finished making the appointment, I went and read the paper in the frame by her picture. Turns out she quit her work as an attorney and became a second grade teacher. And she fought a particularly aggressive form of breast cancer for a couple of years before it killed her at the age of 31.



I got to the doctor and called David, shaken. I got home and Googled her, but could only find one mention of her and that was from a college newspaper archive.