Or in my case, slap a lot of gel on 'em and ultrasound 'em. That's right. A mammogram is on the horizon. It's officially been scheduled for a week from Friday. I've decided how I'm going to handle the whole health insurance thing (thanks to some great wisdom). I called and ordered my slides from the previous doctor. I've opted out of the MRI (at least, for now) and I get to have a serious conversation about DNA testing. It will be an important day for me.
All seems to be set.
Everything is in place. And well, I'm still not certain. What I mean is: I'm scared. I had a flashback last time I went to have a mammogram. It's one of those eerie parts of my grief. I don't remember certain events -- and then things come rushing back too quickly when I don't want them. This is what happened to me when I last got a mammogram. I cried hysterically. Not because of getting my breasts squished (get over it ladies), but because I suddenly remembered going to these appointments with my mother.
Of course, it was too late for her to have a mammogram. When she was my age, my mother woke up one morning and could not raise her arm. My father rushed her to the emergency room. Sometime later, they found out that she had breast cancer. Four years later, my mother lost the battle to this disease. The math is imperfect. I'm 28. She was 33 when she died. Whatever. There are parts that I remember very, very vividly about her illness. No one should remember their mother like I remember my mom. I hope no child does. Perhaps this is what motivates my heart toward justice -- but I don't remember the doctor visits. I know that I went. I remember her doctor and lollipops. I remember when she showed me the jagged scar under her right breast in our bathroom at home. But, I hadn't remembered the doctor visits until I was wearing a paper gown and my own breasts were poked and squished.
I wish that I didn't worry so much about my reactions. But, fuck it. I'm worried about how I will handle this for the second time. I've done it before. I will probably cry. I will definitely cry. But, it should be fine, right? Right. So, if you were me and you had a whole afternoon by yourself after getting a mammogram, what would you do? Go to the beach? Drink coffee? Read a book? Get a massage? Sometimes I wish my mom was here to talk to her about these things, ya know?
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10 comments:
((((pastor peters))))
first of all, if i were you, i'd ask songbird to come with me (if she could and if having company is not too mortifying).
then, i'd do one of two things- if i were wrecked emotionally (which would be understandable, totally understandable) I'd go somewhere quiet with Songbird and pray or cry or laugh or whatever. If I were doing o.k. I'd get lunch and a manicure or pedicure with Songbird.
If you have other options than Songbird for nearby, wonderful, strong female friends- plug in their names- I think solidarity with a sister is called for at this moment.
But I'm totally an extrovert and you can take my advice with a grain of salt. I'll be thinking of you.
Ah, knowing you in a small way, I'd say definitely some fancy high powered fair trade coffee. In fact, ideally, it's delivered to the waiting room right as you leave the office.
And being jealous of your location they way I am, I'd say take your drink to the beach. But that's just me.
I'd absolutely plan something you REALLY want to do for afterward.
1) you're awesome. 2) a good book, a good cup of coffee (could you drive to a starbucks??), and the beach!! sometimes i don't want ppl to touch me, even as a massage, after a medical thing, but that's just me.
hmm, the last time I did something like this (though I didn't do the DNA test talk) and was a wreck for the afternoon I made my favorite foods (so my house smelled like mashed potatoes and green bean casserole) and watched Buffy.
Of course, you can also try the "call friends" option. I'm emailing you my various numbers, just in case.
thanks for your advice all.
apbs, you know it's not the south here. it's cold. the beach is bundled under a blanket with a book. i just want to be clear.
Friday is a very free day for me.
Just sayin'.
And I have fine credentials as a person who drives people places and/or scoops them up to go for coffee.
Call me if you want me.
find a friend. you have to go with a friend who can let you sob and you can be with that friend afterwards and let you sob. or you can tell that friend to go home if you want her to. or you can tell that friend to go and buy you a chocolate cake. i can't imagine it any other way, but that would just be me.
sorry we missed each other last weekend. been nuts, but we will connect. much love to you from Big City.
i hope you experienced some grace yesterday. i've been thinking of you.
but i love sitting on the beach in a sweatshirt!
Late to the conversation. Wonderful advice here. (((Pastor Peters)))
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