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Your test results require additional scans

I recently discovered that the most terrifying possible letter from a doctor contains those words.

Until that point, I was smug. I was full of my own pursuit of health, of my certainty that the hard work I've done for decades in terms of eating well, stress management, exercise would render me bulletproof.

It didn't.

So when I read those dreaded words, my heart stopped. My blood pressure rose. My stomach felt like a giant hand had squeezed it hard and had no intention of letting go anytime soon.

I catastrophized. Within a day of processing the message I had battled and lost to breast cancer. My children were motherless. My husband was without his wife. In one scenario I concocted late at night he had remarried, and seemed much happier than I had ever made him.  

My imagination coupled with my medical knowledge did me no favors.  The emotional shit show that resulted during my reaction was ridiculous. Exhausting. In technicolor. Ruthless.

One week after those words I underwent additional scans. Core mammogram. Ultrasound. The definition of the time between the mammogram, while only measured in approximately 20 minutes, felt like an eternity.

During the week between the words, and the additional scans, I learned that I truly love my life, and that I am in no way ready to exit stage left, gracefully or otherwise. I learned that the thought of spending no more time with my offspring renders me speechless and scooped out emotionally. There is so much more to do, to say, to share. And I am NOT ready to not have that.  I learned that I am, from a career standpoint, happier than I have ever been. I love what I do, where I do it, and with whom I do it.

Sometimes it's important to be reminded of what matters, of where your real priorities lie. That reminder can be excruciating, as I found.

Once the ultrasound was complete, there was more waiting. About 10 minutes, this time. When the tech returned from her consult with the radiologist (the person who issued those first words yet a week back), I felt like I might stroke out right there on the the table before she even opened her mouth.

"Well, just as I thought, it's only a small, benign, fluid filled cyst that has actually shrunk in size since your first mammogram three weeks ago. The radiologist agrees, and believes no follow up care is required, that you can go on with your life and just return next year for your regular mammogram."

She smiled at me, patted me on the shoulder, and handed me a kleenex to catch the tears that were rolling down my cheeks.

I dodged a bullet, and know it. 

I was reminded of where my heart lies, how much love I have in my life, and how many blessings I have.  I didn't know I needed, and I know I certainly never would have asked for a reminder that poignant and painful, but I am thankful for it nonetheless.

My new favorite words? "No follow up care is required, and you can go on with your life..."

On I go.  With thanks.

Huge hugs and much love,

Stevie
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