When I Grow Up...

I had been trying not to worry about it since I received the letter in the mail telling me I had to come back for more testing. “Don’t worry until you need to!” I told myself. “Mimi survived; she is 90 years old now! Her sister didn’t! Uncle Gary didn’t! Uncle Daryl didn’t! Aunt Helen didn’t!” My brain screamed at me. “But Mimi did, and so did Aunt Mona.” I told myself with determination. The thoughts kept running through my brain, making me more scatter brained than usual. “Don’t worry about it,” I scolded, “you’ve been through this before and everything was fine. Everything will be fine this time too.” I entered the building and headed to the fourth floor. I wanted to get “the big squeeze” over. I wanted to be done with this appointment…

Three exams by three different people later…

“You can go home and celebrate the holidays with your family.”

“Just come back in a year,” she smiled.

I felt a smile spread across my face at the encouraging and welcoming words. Until that moment, I had not realized how much stress I was feeling over the situation. As I left the building, I realized I had felt stress about this situation since the last time I went through it when I was 18. So, instead of being smart and following the orders of my doctor, my own common sense, and the never ending urging of my friend Amy, I put it off, because I was scared. I did not have the courage to go, because I was afraid of what they would find. I was afraid they would find something again, and this time it would not be benign. Well, I may have grown older, but apparently, I did not grow any wiser. I found my first large lump when I was 15 years old and I did not tell anyone about it until I was 17 years old, just a few months before my 18th birthday. I knew I had been stupid even back then. I knew I had waited too long to tell anyone. Back then, I was scared and I kept thinking about dying a virgin with one breast, not an appealing future…At least this time I did not have to worry about dying a virgin…

Fortunately, for me I have been up twice and I am still in the game.

This past Thanksgiving as I visited with my grandma Mimi, I was thankful that she was still with us. It has been about 30 years since she had both of her breasts removed, and went through radiation and chemotherapy. This year she celebrated her 90th Thanksgiving. She is strong, alive, and still enjoying the important things in life, time with her family and the joy of giving and receiving love. As we sat their visiting, I thought to myself, “When I grow up…I want to be an old woman…just like Mimi, she lives her life fully, with faith, hope, courage, strength and love.