April 24th, 2025: Seven days after Dr. Larsen found the lump in my left breast, I found myself walking into the Piper Breast Cancer Center in Coon Rapids for a mammogram and ultrasound.
I’ll be honest—until I stepped onto the third floor of the Mercy Specialty Center, I hadn’t spent much time, if any thinking about the what ifs or what this appointment could truly lead to. Not because I was avoiding it, but because I simply didn’t know how or what to think.
When I say I knew nothing about breast cancer, I mean exactly that—I didn’t even have enough knowledge to let my mind wander down that path. There was no family history, no close friends who had been diagnosed, and only two coworkers over the years who had been vulnerable enough to share their stories with me at a high level.
So, in a way, I was a BC Virgin. Completely uninitiated.
And yet, here I was—sitting in the waiting room, realizing that this was no longer a hypothetical. It was happening to me.
The kind nurse led me into a locker area, handed me a robe, and gave me instructions on where to stash my belongings. Simple enough. I settled into a seat, trying to quiet my thoughts, but then I started listening to the conversation around me.
Women, all much older than me, casually chatting about their cancer journeys—treatments, recoveries, next steps. Their ease with the topic made me feel wildly out of place. I wasn’t part of this club. Not yet.
Then— “Kim Richardson?”
Silence. No one stood up.
Oh. Right. That’s me. 🤦
After 38 years of being a “Provenzano”, it can still take a hot second for “Richardson” to register when someone calls my name. So, after that brief pause, I got up and followed the nurse across the hall, stepping into my first ever mammogram.
I braced myself for the worst.
Over the years, I’d heard horror stories—how uncomfortable, painful, even traumatic a mammogram could be. So, walking into the exam room, I was fully prepared for the boob clamp to live up to its reputation.
And yet… it wasn’t bad.
Not exactly something I’d volunteer for on a regular basis, but once a year? Totally manageable.
I left feeling pleasantly surprised—like I had just debunked one of those universal myths we all hear but never question.
One more step toward figuring out what this lump was all about—checked off the list. Now, I found myself back in the same waiting area, overhearing new conversations from the women who had joined since my last round of imaging.
"Kim."
This time, I was ready. No hesitation.
I stood up as the same technician from my mammogram called my name. She gave me a tight-lipped but professional look and said, "The radiologist wants a few more images of your right breast."
Alrighty then—back to the boob clamp we went.
And that’s when my brain started to do rude things.
Wait. The right side? What did they see? What did Dr. Larsen miss? We are here for my left breast, not the right!
The uncertainty crawled in, turning a routine follow-up into a mental battlefield of questions I didn’t have answers to yet.
After wrapping up my mammogram and extra imaging, I had a few minutes before heading back for an ultrasound. I was relieved that Dr. Larsen had requested both tests to happen on the same day—one less thing to worry about, one less appointment to schedule.
The ultrasound was easy peasy—nothing new here. After all, I’ve had about a dozen while pregnant, so I knew exactly what to expect. But while the process itself was familiar, my emotions were a different story.
I texted Nick—letting him know they needed extra imaging on my right breast and were now doing an ultrasound on that side too. Then, because my brain was working overtime, I followed up with, "Ugh, I’m a mess."
Because, really—I was.
I fought back tears, trying not to let my mind spiral. What had they seen on the right side? What did this mean?
Not too long after the sonographer finished capturing all the necessary images, the radiologist—Dr. Laroy (shout-out to her, she’s AMAZING too)—came in to conduct her own ultrasound.
To make it short: No concerns with the right breast. Tissue looks normal.
But the lump Dr. Larsen found in my left breast? That one needs a biopsy.
Another step forward. Another wait. And another round of emotions I wasn’t quite sure how to process yet.
On April 28, 2025, I walked into my biopsy appointment, ready to check off another step in this unexpected journey.
Side note: As I mentioned earlier, I knew nothing about breast cancer before this, so along the way, I plan to sprinkle in some educational lessons—because if I’m learning, I might as well help others learn too.
Lesson #1: What Is a Breast Biopsy?
A breast biopsy is a key step in figuring out what’s going on beneath the surface. It’s how doctors determine whether a lump or abnormal tissue is benign (non-cancerous) or malignant (cancerous).
I won’t lie—the word biopsy carries a certain weight. But the procedure itself? Surprisingly straightforward. And way less intimidating than I expected.
How It Went Down
Dr. Laroy performed my biopsy. And let me tell you—she’s got skills.
- First, a little local anesthesia—quick and painless.
- Then, an ultrasound to guide the placement of the needle so it hit the right spot.
- A few clicks as she removed tissue samples.
- And finally, the implantation of a tiny marker (it literally looks like a grain of rice) to identify the biopsied area down the road.
Boom—done.
Results typically come back within a few days to a week. And waiting? That’s its own kind of mental battle.
I had to remind myself—no matter the outcome, this was still a step toward clarity. Toward knowing the next move. Whether relief or a new challenge was coming, I walked away knowing one thing for sure:
Information is power!
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