I'm Fine, But This Was Scary Stuff

It's something every woman dreads: the notification that the mammogram was not entirely satisfactory and please come back for further investigation. You call up, you make your appointment for the earliest possible time, you wait it out, you pray a lot, you prepare for the worst. You remind yourself that this has happened before, to you, to your sister, to others you know, and it's almost always nothing.  On the other hand, the family history is there...  You remind yourself that if Barbara could do it, so can you, if need be.

The hardest part of the waiting, for me, was all the extra attentiveness from Demetrios. The long, loving looks, the "Let me do that," the wanting to be constantly near. Oh, yes, of course, it's sweet, it's kind, it's wonderful to have such a lovey-dovey husband -- except when you know there's fear behind it.  He's cheerful, but he's scared and you hate that. And he's a doctor.

So the day of the appointment comes, and you go into the x-ray room, and here comes a second shock: they want to re-check BOTH breasts. OMG, has the thing already metastasized? And the x-ray technician says, "Next time, don't wait and do your mammogram the day before you're going away for six months; it give us heart failure."

She takes the pictures and the pain is so bad it gives you your excuse to cry. She goes back to speak to the radiologist. You wait some more, wiping away your tears because the sight of you crying over this is something you are NOT going to inflict upon your husband.  Not yet, anyway.

She comes back. There's no smile, but her words begin with, "The GRRREAT news is..." You still can't smile. She says, "...it's only cysts and we want to see you back here in six months."

Thank You, thank You, thank You!

Kyrie, eleison!

Happy Thanksgiving!