The Day Of

Ouch. I always forget how freakin' uptight I get when I have to wait for my mammogram. The day of, not matter what I have on my plate (and I do try to have not too much on my plate for some pretty obvious reasons), I get distracted, anxious, something coming close to "spooked". My nerves get jangly, I get jumpy, and time seem to drag on or race forward depending on the minute. I feel nauseous, probably because my stomach muscles are gripping my internal organs so tightly, and I want to cry.

No wonder some women skip on out their mammogram.

Not sure why I don't. It never really occured to me actually (even though the original 3cm lump could not be detected on a mammogram - granted that was old technology). Except on the day of. Then I wonder what they ways out are. I used to bring a friend, to hold my hand tight and my resolution strong. But lately I have let that go. Slipping back into thinking it is too much to ask. Into thinking it is no big deal to get a mammogram. And, truth be told, often the mammogram is not the hard part. It is the dealing with the health care providers. Trying to convince them to be compassionate, try to convince them to be kind (just like they try to convince me to cooperate, I suppose, bummer to be at this impasse). And needing that friend to prop up my courage. Because it is hard to remember what you really want, and to stand up for yourself when you have left your body.

So, I will just take my extra strength Advil (thank you Sophie), and screw my courage to the sticking place (to quote the bard, but for much less diabolical purposes), and step boldly out into the afternoon.