Looking back on it from this perspective I can see it more 
intellectually, but the emotions of that time haven't changed. The time 
distance makes them more easy to bear but I know that they will forever 
be a part of me, for that I am actually thankful.
 
When the doctor told me that I needed to have a mammogram I was 
mentally flippant. The thoughts were basically, "sure, no problem." To 
my knowledge no one in my family had ever had breast cancer so no 
history, no worries. Ignorance is not bliss. 
 
My only concern at the time was finding the imaging center as I 
have absolutely no sense of direction. After all, I am the person who 
coming back from a weekend trip one time missed the one and only turn I 
had to make and had us many miles out of the way before I realized my 
error. I can and often do work myself up into an unnecessary mental 
state worrying about things. As it was, I had time though to find the 
place and believe me I went out of my way to find it before hand. I 
asked directions, I searched on line and I drove out to the location and
 around to the side of the building where it was located. Still on the 
appointed day I was a nervous wreck until I pulled into that parking 
area where I was to go, parked and entered the building. 
 
Now my only concern was for the coming embarrassment, discomfort 
and pain. I am a self-conscious person who is very uncomfortable when it
 comes to body parts being exposed even to medical personnel. That and 
the fact that I had after all heard all of the horror stories connected 
with mammograms. Walking down that wide hallway I had a somewhat better 
understanding of those walking that last mile. The way was well lit but 
my fear made it dark.
 
  Signing in at the window I then moved through the doors and 
entered the waiting area. This was a very comfortably decorated room. 
Designed to make one feel at home with an understated elegance. I was 
still nervous. I tore up a tissue, I read and reread those little 
informational cards- not remembering a thing on them and I shifted 
repeatedly in my chair. After waiting, called to fill out insurance 
information and then waiting a little more I was called back. Shown to a
 dressing room and told to strip to the waist and dress in a nice fat, 
fluffy robe. That done I sat down to wait and tremble. If trembling were
 a weight loss tool I would have lost several pounds sitting in that 
room. While I waited all manner of thoughts flowed through my mind. 
Thoughts that were to some degree expected and logical and some that 
came from way out in left field that were the manifestations of a 
frantic mind. To some degree- man,y if not most -of us fear the
 unknown. Especially when you know others that love to share all of the 
horror stories they know, whether personal or one of those it happened 
to..' stories. The mind and one's imagination can create 
havoc. Combined, they can take you to places where there is no reason to
 go. Only when you have the mental aptitude to keep those fears and 
thoughts in check are you prevented from acting out physically. Right 
when my fear was reaching its crescendo I heard my name called through 
the door. Even though I had known it was coming I was still startled 
from my mental ramblings and jumped slightly. Standing, I took a deep 
breath and opened the door. It was waiting.
 
  Following the technician down the short hallway I was giving 
myself a mental pep-talk. It would be fine, no worries, no pain, no 
problems. Self wasn't listening very well. Passing through a door with 
warning signs around it I looked at one of the strangest machines that I
 had ever seen, and I didn't like it. The technician wasted no time and 
as she instructed I followed to the best of my ability. All the while 
babbling on, making the same comments that she had probably heard 
thousands of times before and some that could come only from someone 
like me who has an unusual sense of humor and unique oddness about them.
 Even through all of that she was very professional and I soon lost most
 of the embarrassment and found that the discomfort was not nearly as 
bad as I had feared. It was definitely not something that I would want 
to deal with on any schedule other than once a year, but I was not in 
the excruciating pain I had built of the fear
 for. When she told me afterward that I may get called back due to 
nothing to compare to I wasn't worried. I had done the mammogram thing, 
it was over, it was good I was about to go back to my so-called normal 
life and not worry about this again until next year. 
 
That flippant attitude continued even when I did receive the 
message and returned for the images they needed. It was the  day after 
Thanksgiving, mom and I were going shopping and my thoughts were on all 
of the great deals we were  missing not on what was taking place. If 
anything I was feeling slightly annoyed. Mom was with me as once this 
was finished we were going to head out and find out what deals might be 
left. Impatience more than anything fueled my emotions as I sat, waited,
 followed, undressed and entered the imaging room. I was annoyed right 
up until they only took images of one side. I was told to sit and wait 
while the image was shown to a doctor. Another set of images later I was
 told the same thing. After the third set I was slightly concerned, 
especially when I was told they needed an ultrasound. Fear is like a 
kudzu plant. It starts out as a tiny sprout and then grows 
uncontrollably when allowed. Walking back down the
 hallway to wait, listening to the technician actually babbling on about
 shopping that first tiny sprout was trying to peek out. I don't like 
being afraid. It is not a comfortable emotion. I do not ride those 
thrill rides at amusement parks partly because of that. I don't like 
heights, I don't like feeling like I'm falling and I don't like not 
knowing what others do especially when it comes to me and my health. 
Even my mother who was still waiting for me picked up on the babbling 
and wondered.
 
Lead back to another area of the building I followed instructions 
and waited yet again in another cold room. When you are beginning to 
feel fear, a cold room is one of the last places you want to be. It only
 amplifies the trembling. The actual ultra-sound wasn't a problem. I 
watched the images on the screen and watched as she returned time and 
time again to the same area. She knew what she was looking at, I didn't.
 Again the unknown and the fear that comes with it sprouted a bit 
higher.
 
I was told that I would need to see a surgeon as there was 
"something" showing up. My attempt at shrugging it off in agreement 
didn't quite have the same effect that it had in the beginning. Mom and I
 didn't go shopping. The mood to find bargains was no longer there. 
Instead in the back of my mind was the question, do I have cancer? 
 
I believe that fear, nerves, worry all have a cancer type affect on
 one. It grows, consuming one's thoughts and actions. You try to put it 
out of your mind, you try to push it aside only to have it return time 
and again. You go on about your business, taking care of your daily life
 and all the while its still there hounding you.
 
I loved my surgeon immediately. She has the best personality and 
style of dress. She is her own self with a wonderful attitude. I had 
worried about this meeting. I tend to say odd things at odd times and 
have people give me 'that look' letting me know they wonder if my 
keepers know that I'm running loose. In this doctor I found somewhat of a
 kindred spirit. She examined the images and told me that they-the 
almighty They- thought something was there. She showed me where the 
'something' was and that it didn't have a defined appearance. That was 
when mouth opened and I told her it looked like a cat. She glanced at me
 and then the image and reluctantly agreed. She told me that she wanted 
to do her own ultra-sound. When I asked her if it would really be a cat 
scan she said "No..its an ultra-sound." but when the assistant she 
called came in she told the assistant that she wanted to do a 'cat-scan'
 I loved the expression on the girl's face. It brought
 that Kudzu in my mind down a notch. Even when the ultra-sound showed 
the same thing that 'they' had found I wasn't really too terribly 
concerned. When she told me that she wanted to do a needle biopsy I 
shrugged. I thought we would set up an appointment. Nope, she did it 
right then.
 
When we allow emotions to control us they can hurt. Broken hearts, 
separation and loneliness, fear of any kind, deceit of a friend..but 
that needle going in and the after effects...now that was pain and not 
merely an emotional one. The sample would be sent off and we would have 
the results in a week. that fear Kudzu plant can grow a lot in a week if
 you allow it. I was doing my best not to allow it. When it came back 
showing the possibility and that she needed to do a surgical biopsy I 
knew.
 
How many emotions does one actually have? Joy, love, hope, faith, 
trust, fear, hate, worry. You could start naming them and with all their
 variations never reach the end of the list. That was what I was 
feeling. I returned to work a mental mess. The foremost and strongest 
emotion was that I did not want to deal with this. I did not want to go 
through with this. I was not happy, I was angry, and I was a little 
afraid. Kudzu grows quickly. 
 
Back in a far corner of the department I gave in and leaned over a 
box waited to be filled and prayed with all of the passion that I could 
pray. I did NOT want this. I am unashamedly a Christian. I believe in 
the Hope. When I prayed I was answered. Just not in the way I expected. 
Chastisement of the Spirit gets your attention, but it let me know I was
 not alone. The fear that had been eating at me- left. The creeping 
Kudzu plant wilted and fell away.
 
The surgical biopsy was an inconvenience that I had to deal with to
 get to the real ball game. Questions and tests and presurgery stuff out
 of the way my husband took me to the outpatient building and we waited.
 It was raining that morning and it fit my mood. I had to be here but I 
didn't want to be. I was only slightly nervous, mainly because I was 
once again dealing with the unknown. I had never had any surgery before 
this was new ground for me. Everyone was so very nice though, my fears 
and concerns eased. I knew what they would find, but now I was girded 
for battle, I was not alone.
 
When the biopsy showed the cancer I did not fall apart. I did not 
panic. I did not cry, moan or curse the fates. I matter -of- factly told
 her that she knew what and where it was- go get it. Game on.
 
The most difficult part in all of this so far was that I was going 
to have to tell my family that I had cancer. My husband was on a bus 
headed for a potential job. I called him and broke the news over the 
phone. I knew he didn't want to wait, he had made me promise to call. He
 was concerned, wanted to know if I wanted him to come back but I told 
him there was nothing he could do, continue on and see about the job. My
 mother took it better--or hid it better-- than I had hoped. My brother 
that lives the closest- he took it hard. He refused to look at me at 
first. I guess when you are facing our mortality for the first time it 
does make one confused and distressed. It took a few minutes but I 
finally got him past that. It was going to be okay. I knew though that I
 didn't want to deal with anything like the same reactions at work so I 
purchased a pink ball cap with the awareness ribbon on the front and 
wore that to work the next day. Of course it
 was questioned as I do not generally wear a cap but it broke all the 
ice and work went on and those who had dealt with this before me rallied
 to my side.
 
There is a lot more preparations that need to be made for surgery 
than I had ever realized. How many times can they ask you the same 
questions? How many different people need the same information? How many
 times must you have the same tests? Why do MRI's have to be so 
frightening? Well, at least to me and my not so lovely claustrophobia. 
Why are hospital rooms- any and all hospital rooms so freaking cold? I 
do really love those heated blankets though. A lot of different people 
came in as I was preapring for the surgery. Each with their own purpose.
 Each very friendly and very professional. Each managing to calm my 
nerves a little bit more. I wasn't so much afraid. I knew what they were
 going to do, and it wasn't as if they were doing back or heart surgery,
 but that level of concern and fear was determined not to be ignored. I 
think that they have the timing of that anesthesia down to an art form. 
Both times the minute I entered the operating room
 the first and last thing I saw was that bank of lights- then it was 
lights out.
 
Waking up after surgery is an adventure in itself. Disorientation 
is not fun. Trying to figure out where you are and why you are there. 
Who is that calling your name and why are so many people staring at you 
expectantly? Getting dressed and going home is always a relief whether 
it was a major or minor reason for your visit. Sleepy and nauseated from
 the anesthesia I went straight to bed and pretty much stayed there. I 
got up a couple times to talk with people and let them know I was 
doing okay but for the most part I lost two days. The day of and the day
 after the surgery. Now the real fun would begin.
 
Once the bandages were removed and I had healed up slightly I was 
sent to see an oncologist. Another professional type person that I had 
to see and try to figure out their personality and find out where the 
lines were drawn as to what part of my sense of humor would be accepted 
and what would get me those so familiar looks. He turned out to be a 
very nice doctor and gentleman. He, too, had a wonderfully quick, witty 
and bright sense of humor. Amazing- but not surprising- how blessings 
are given.  The first visit was a fact finding one. Afterward I would 
get my schedule. It still had not been determined if I would need 
chemotherapy. I wasn't afraid too much of the radiation..and I wasn't 
afraid really of the chemotherapy. My pride simply did not like the idea
 of losing my hair. Even though I complained about it for various 
reasons on a regular basis, it was my hair and I didn't want to lose it.
 Pride is a silly thing actually.
 Turns out my fears were relieved and I didn't have to face that threat 
as I did not need chemotherapy- only the radiation.
 
Fear of the unknown crept up again on that first day. I had no idea
 what was about to happen and I did not in any way look forward to it. 
The treatments turned out to be not so bad in themselves. It was the 
after effects that got me. Each day I grew more tired. Each day the 
weariness threatened my ability to function. Every single step was 
difficult. They were acts of sheer determination. I had no energy, 
thoughts and emotions took too much to feel. I was a machine doing what I
 had to and only what I had to just to get by. I had to totally change 
my diet. No more chocolate- no junk food period. The processed sugars 
only made the exhaustion worse. I allowed myself one cup of coffee a 
day- the rest of the time it was water. I was always thirsty, downing 
bottle after bottle of water a day. I carried one with me at all times. I
 had to learn to allow others to do for me. I- the person who prided 
herself on her self efficiency had to have help doing
 simple things. People I did not know who were reading the columns that 
were running in the paper would see me attempting to lift something and 
would rush to my aid. I received multitudes of cards and letters from 
people. Strange these feelings. 
 
Cancer can and does give you a feeling of isolation. You know you 
are not the only person to have dealt with it. You are not the first and
 you won't be the last. But-- this is you. The fear that tries so hard 
to consume you. The loneliness in those times when you let down your 
guard, the exhaustion that you fight, the sickness from treatments. All 
battles you must fight and even when you have people at your side, they 
can only do so much. They can lift things for you, they can cook meals, 
do housework, drive you places...but they cannot fight the battle. As 
your body fights against the invader your mind and heart fight against 
the emotions that threaten.
 
The entire time I was in my particular battle even as my family and
 friends were around, they could not be around all of the time. I found a
 healing presence waiting for me on the many long walks that I began to 
take. Always along the route, and I took the exact same route daily, 
there was something special waiting for me. I found flowers that I had 
never noticed before, I found an amazing variety of insects. Deer, 
raccoon and opossum appeared on various occasions. There was always 
something amazing waiting to remind me that I was not taking this 
journey alone. There in lay my peace.
 
All of this was in 2008. Still today I can and do look back on 
that. It is a forever part of me. I faced and dealt with the emotional 
side of this thing. I was able to write about it then and write about it
 now. I have shared and continue to share my experience not for pity or 
attention, but to let others know that it is something that can be 
faced, can be beaten. Do I ever worry about it returning? I wouldn't be 
human if I didn't..but if it does. I know who is on my side.