This year, I was being flaky about going in. I simply did not feel like taking the time. I wondered about skipping a year. There is no history of breast cancer in my immediate family and I am considered fairly low-risk (although as we all know, there's really no such thing as low-risk when it comes to cancer.) I finally made the appointment, and was in and out in less than an hour. Voila! Easy, I thought.
A day later, I got a call from the imaging center. There was a questionable mass in my right breast and they wanted to do another mammogram. Other than being mildly irritated at having to go back, I wasn't overly concerned. I'd been down that road before, me and my dense breasts.
I went back in and got another, more intensive mammogram. Went home, thinking "okay NOW I'm done for the year with that nonsense." Got a call a day later. They were very concerned about the mass. They wanted me to come in and have an ultrasound, aspiration of the mass, and possible biopsy. They wanted me to come in as soon as possible, no procrastinating.
Things in my very overactive imagination suddenly got very real. Strangely enough, my first thought was "Why did I drink all those diet cokes over the years?! Goddamned artificial sweetener!"
Then I thought about my family. My children- a son who is still very young in many ways. A daughter, who for a myriad of reasons, has chosen not to allow me to be involved in her life right now. My brother whom I haven't spoken to in a long time and I miss every day, my other brother whose wife is due to have a baby practically any minute, my mom, my dad, and of course, B, the love of my life. I thought about all the people I care about that I've lost touch with. I thought about silly grudges, resentments and hurt feelings. I thought about the things I haven't done, the places I haven't seen, the people I haven't hugged, the unfinished work I still have on this planet. I couldn't imagine my son growing up without me there to see it. I couldn't fathom the idea of ME, a unique individual, not being in existence anymore. Suddenly, my own mortality was right there in my face.
I met B at the hospital a couple days later for the ultrasound and aspiration (the doctor takes a thin needle and tries to drain the mass. If it drains, its all good. If it doesn't we move on to the next step). Thank God for this man, who would never let me go through this alone.
I sat in my car for a few minutes before I went in. And I whispered to myself something I often say when I am getting ready to do something new or risky. I whispered, "Do you feel lucky?" and then I gave my own response, my pat response whenever B asks if I'm feeling lucky. "I always feel lucky." I wasn't going to allow myself to consider that my endless luck might have started to run out.
The procedure was simple and painless. We chatted with the ultrasound technician and radiologist. They numbed my right breast and I closed my eyes. I focused on my breathing (thank you, yoga) and managed to put myself in a surreal, meditative state. It only took a few minutes, but felt like hours. Everyone else in the room was looking at the ultrasound screen. I heard a collective sigh and the doctor said "Oh there we go" as she inserted the needle and watched the mass drain away and disappear. A cyst, nothing more.
I had to lay on the table for about 15 minutes afterwards, making the phrase "sick with relief" a reality. I felt incredibly nauseous and incredibly, incredibly lucky. My head and heart filled up with gratitude, spilling out my eyes in a rush of tears. I thought of all the people in the world who had to deal with a different diagnosis, and I wondered at their strength and fortitude in the face of such a frightening moment.
It was just a cyst. And yet it changed my perspective and gave me a new lease on life. This beautiful, crazy life that we all are given. A gift. I always say to live it to the fullest, make the most of it. And I believe it. Now I believe it even more. Reach out to those you love. Do the things you want to do. Be your own, authentic self. Because you never know when you might be looking down that barrel, finally understanding that this too will end someday.
Always a big fan of inspirational quotes, I'll leave you with another movie favorite, from "P.S., I Love You" a corny and sweet little flick about love and loving again....
"This is my one and only life, and it is a great and terrible and short and endless thing. And none of us come out of it alive."
Live every minute like it's your last. Because someday, it will be.
