NOAH
“Noah Harrington.”
My name being called has my breath hitching. From the moment I sat in the waiting room, all I wanted to do was get up and walk away. But I’m doing this for Caleb and Jessica.
Instead, I suck it up, take a deep breath and stand. I walk towards the GP and follow her inside. She closes the door behind us before ushering for me to sit.
The room is clinical, and yet not as cool as I would expect. There’s a bed over by the wall with a roll of blue tissue paper pulled down the end. Some anatomy posters line the wall and come to a stop by a large set of scales. Large cabinets line the remaining wall up to the desk. Even with the windows open, it’s almost stifling, and I find myself pulling at the collar of my shirt.
“Sorry, the air con is on the blink again,” she says before turning to her computer and tapping her keyboard. The key card she has hanging from her lanyard clanks against the edge of the desk, adding to my frayed nerves before she returns her focus to me.
“Right, what can I help you with today?” she asks.
I clear my throat, my tongue thick, and force myself to reply.
“I found some swelling and a lump,” I reply and point towards my chest and armpit.
“Okay, tell me a little more about your concerns?”
I glance to the side. “At first, I thought maybe I’d strained myself while at the gym, but when it didn’t go away and my dog started to paw at me, acting out of character, I just knew I needed to get it checked. I know that might sound weird.”
She shakes her head. “Not at all. And how long ago was it when you first noticed?” she asks.
I chew the inside of my cheek and think back, annoyed with myself because it was well before I noticed Aspen’s behaviour. “Maybe two or three months ago. It was hardly noticeable, but now I feel like it’s bigger, or maybe that’s just because I’m aware of it. I’m not sure.”
But every time Caleb or Jessica go to touch me near my chest, I find myself physically pulling away as subtly as possible. I’d like to believe they’ve not noticed, but I can’t be sure now, especially with my recent snappy outbursts of late.
“I see, and is it painful? Have you noticed anything else that’s concerning you?”
I shake my head. “No, not that I can tell,” I reply honestly.
Apart from my anxiety, I feel the same.
“What about your family medical history?”
I swallow. “My mum died of breast cancer,” I say, the words feeling like razor blades, my chest tightening with a deep ache. Her loss is something I’ll never get over. Even now, it hurts to think about her, let alone talk about her, and it makes me feel as though I’m letting her down somehow.
Her eyes shine with sympathy, and she nods as she adds to her notes.
“Are you okay for me to examine you?” she asks.
“Yeah.”
She tilts her head in the direction of the bed. “If you could remove your top and sit on the bed, please.”
I do as she asks, feeling self-conscious about my body, something I’ve never really felt before.
I try to tune it out as she examines me and only respond when she asks me questions.
Thankfully, it’s over quickly, and she tells me I can put my top back on.
I join her back at the desk and take a seat.
“Okay, I think we should refer you for a biopsy. That way, we can be sure and rule everything out.”
My head becomes fuzzy as she talks. I mostly tune out the rest of what she says, only catching on when I hear, “you’ll get an appointment within the next couple of days. They’ll take a biopsy, and you’ll get the results within a few weeks.”
I want to ask her in her professional opinion if she thinks it’s cancer, but I also know that’s not something she can answer, hence the biopsy.
