Am Are I

First of all, THANK YOU to the big wide world out there for all of your e-mails in which have contained countless stories of your own. It has had a BIG calming affect on me. I feel yes, less alone, and kind of normal. To the few who have written me that are going through this or a similar issue yourselves, I am WITH YOU in that cold, uncomfortable waiting room of uncertainty. Thank you for being with me.

As I have been learning more and more of other people's experiences with this I can't help but wonder why the HECK is this not talked about more? I mean, the term MAMMOGRAM is used all over the place--I saw it used in a Simpson's episode last night for pete's sake! It's an expected procedure for women, but I had NO CLUE as to what exactly the actual PROCEDURE was. How about getting your boobs individually MASHED in a plastic vice, while you wear tiny, flesh colored pasties? That wasn't the first image that came to my mind when I thought of mammograms. I'll admit it. And now I've given you all an image in which to carry with you throughout the day.

I got a call from doctor's office yesterday with the results of my sonogram and mammogram. Are you ready? The nurse said, "They discovered a lump." I kept waiting for some other revelation to follow this, but no, that was it. Thanks for the FRIGGN' NEWS FLASH. I waited TWELVE DAYS for that? So I am scheduled for an MRI in two weeks. The day after my birthday, actually. I've been told by a few people that have gone through this that an MRI is followed by a biopsy. The biopsy is the last stand. Why not just get a biopsy in the first place? That would pretty much solve it in one visit, as opposed to four or five. But what do I know? I am just one of the many women who are jumping through several hoops and countless sleepless nights, and telling how many strangers, both in person and on the phone, about the intimate workings of my body, and somehow feeling jilted and used and unrequited.

I guess I am still pissed.

Knowing that this is something so many women go through has helped normalize it for me and not worry SO MUCH for the worst. I am reminded of what a guy at the social security office told me once. I called because I was afraid I had inadvertently given a scammer my social security number and he literally said to me, "Summer, Summer it's most likely going to be okay. You always hear the bad stories and not the millions of okay stories. Think about how many thousands of planes land every single day, but you only hear about the one or two that crashes a year."

Our tendency--or MY tendency--is to think of the worst case scenario. Also, by the way, the worst case scenario in this case is most likely treatable. It's just the friggn' unknown that wraps you up in its cold fist and pounds the fear into you hand over hand. The nature of this process seems to me to breed an unnecessary amount of paranoia. Why doctors don't explain more or make themselves more available to such questions seems counter intuitive. But again, what do I know? I am just the patient with the MASS in her chest, who believes she can fell it when she BLINKS.

Thanks again to you all. I know you know what I mean.