Wednesday, March 25, 2015

The Boob Bus

Fact: My mother died from breast cancer which had metastasized to other areas (bone, lung) when I was fifteen years old.

Fact: I’m having a mammogram screening on Wednesday at the Mobile Mammography Unit (Boob Bus) which will be at my office.

Fact: I’m terrified.

I’m terrified that I’ll hear those dreaded words, “You’ve got Cancer.”  I dealt with a cancer scare nearly three years ago when they removed my thyroid, so what’s to say that I’m not going to hear the same thing, now?  The Big C.

I’m terrified that I’ll wind up leaving my kids the way my mom left me. 

I’m terrified that my kids will grow up without me.  That I won’t be part of their lives; to see them graduate, get jobs, get married, have babies.  That they’ll be treated differently when their friends learn about what poor, motherless children they are.

I know I’m projecting.  I know I need to get out of my own head.  I talked with my best friend, who has an uncanny way of finding the one thing that will make me feel better when I’m hyper-emotional.  She said, “Honey, you’re getting your boobs squished on a bus!  I think you need to save the anxiety for if they find something and then have to go in with a needle!”  Of course, the whole boobs-squished-on-a-bus comment made me laugh, so then I felt better.  Mostly. 

There’s still anxiety in there.  And really, no woman really likes this part of being female.  But, though I do feel better about the actual exam, I still could use all the thoughts, prayers, and good vibes you can send my way.


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