It's that time again.
Time for my checkup and especially time for the mammogram.
The last time I got one I got the bad news. A year and half ago. Since then I had surgery, chemo, radiation and a long recovery time. Now I believe I'm back to health, in spite of slightly tight movements and aches especially on my arms and shoulders. I've lost most of my weight water gain but still need to lose a few pounds that I have piled up since then. And aside from that, I feel good. Sometimes blue, sometimes sunshiny, but heck, who isn't?!
But I'm scared.
Super, mighty scared.
Out of my wits scared.
Anyone who's been there (or has a loved one who's been there) knows what I mean.
It's a cold, clamping fear that tightens our throat and the opening of our stomach and won't go away until you hear those words "everything is OK" and then you know you'll have until the next checkup to let go of that fear.
Fortunately I get to know right away.
It's scary to look at the doctor's face trying to decypher what she's seeing on the ultrasonograph and any time she clicks and records the image on the screen you flinch. It doesn't hurt. It scares the heck out of you.
But when she's done you pray to hear those magical words.
"Everything is OK". Because she knows I need to know right then and there, no matter what the words are. And you know you'll fight like a gladiator for you life, if the veredict is bad. But you don't want it to be. Again.
Hopefully I'll be back tomorrow to tell you those same words. With a smile.
Until then... XXX
The last time I got one I got the bad news. A year and half ago. Since then I had surgery, chemo, radiation and a long recovery time. Now I believe I'm back to health, in spite of slightly tight movements and aches especially on my arms and shoulders. I've lost most of my weight water gain but still need to lose a few pounds that I have piled up since then. And aside from that, I feel good. Sometimes blue, sometimes sunshiny, but heck, who isn't?!
But I'm scared.
Super, mighty scared.
Out of my wits scared.
Anyone who's been there (or has a loved one who's been there) knows what I mean.
It's a cold, clamping fear that tightens our throat and the opening of our stomach and won't go away until you hear those words "everything is OK" and then you know you'll have until the next checkup to let go of that fear.
Fortunately I get to know right away.
It's scary to look at the doctor's face trying to decypher what she's seeing on the ultrasonograph and any time she clicks and records the image on the screen you flinch. It doesn't hurt. It scares the heck out of you.
But when she's done you pray to hear those magical words.
"Everything is OK". Because she knows I need to know right then and there, no matter what the words are. And you know you'll fight like a gladiator for you life, if the veredict is bad. But you don't want it to be. Again.
Hopefully I'll be back tomorrow to tell you those same words. With a smile.
Until then... XXX











