All in all, I’m a pretty hands (& mind) off cancer survivor. I spend very little time worrying about its return, although I do what I have to in terms of testing. Most of this goes unmentioned as I simply see it as part of my path. Tomorrow, though, I’ll have my mammogram & this, I most definitely dread.
These come less often for me now & I haven’t had one since September or so. See, I really can’t recall when I went last which I’d say is a little atypical. The procedure itself is nothing (compared to some I’ve endured) but I sure do hate the way I feel in the waiting room. In the changing room. In the gown. Amongst the mostly-older menopausal women who wonder, I imagine, what I’m doing there at my age. I feel for the ones who’ll get the bad news instead of the good. I want to be there to tell them they can do it if they have to. But I hope they won’t have to. Please, let them not have to. Yet I know some of them will.
So that’s my tomorrow morning. I’ll go into it as worry-free as possible, flip though my magazines & emerge onto 34th Street, all the more ready to wake up the world.
Love, light & be good to your girls,
The Urban Pixie
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