"What do you mean, you don't like what you see..."

Thursday, August 27th, 2015. 2:30pm.
My lovely lady lumps have just been pressed between 2 pieces of glass and photographed. Awesome. Not.
Next comes the warmth of ultrasound gel, warm blankets and the sweet soothing voice of an ultrasound tech I've known for years. My husband, Jack, is a radiologist here. Everyone knows who I am. And apparently quite a few of them can see something very wrong on the display screen, but I am completely unaware.
But let's backtrack a bit.  In March I had my annual mammogram and it was clear. Clean as a whistle.
Then, in the middle of July, I felt something that I had not felt before on my right breast. It's the middle of summer, life is good. I waited to see my internist until August 25th. She felt it and thought I should get it checked out on diagnostic mammo...just to be sure.
So here we are. As the doctor finished the ultrasound and our casual friendly small talk, he rolled his chair right up next to me and said "I don't like what I see." Wait. What? What's that mean? The next sentence he spoke threw me into a panic. "I think I should go get Jack." Okayyyy.....?
My sweet husband already knew. He had been watching as the images of his wife loaded up on his monitor, only to sit in silence and fear and wait. He was waiting outside the ultrasound room for his que to come in.

I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.  "What are we talking about here?" I ask.
(Dr B) "It looks like Cancer. We need to biopsy it and see what we're looking at."
My mind races. Okay, tomorrow is kinda full, I could move some things around and do it sometime next week...
(Dr B) "They just cleared my afternoon. We need to do it now."
Oh shit. (Pardon the French)
Now I AM scared.

The next hour pretty much sucked. Mind racing. Needles needling. Loud clicking sound of tissue being extracted to send to the lab.

Keegan was waiting to be picked up and then needed to get to soccer. Hannah needed to get home and have dinner and be ready for soccer carpool. My kids. They are my everything. I can't have cancer. I have to be there for them.

I went home and rested. We all are scared. Now we wait for an answer.