Waiting Room

"You can wait here while the doctor looks over the films and I'll come get you with the results," the technician said as she opened the door to the waiting room I left a few minutes before. I walked past women robed in cream-colored gowns, some idly flipping through magazines or scrolling on their phones. I didn't know their stories, but something inside me wanted to know.

• Who is here for their first mammogram?
• Who is here for a routine mammogram?
• Who is here waiting for the results of a diagnostic mammogram, wondering if the doctor will find something, like me?
• Who is scared to death?

I found a magazine and a chair, sipping my coffee. I feel at peace, I thought, God's in control. The magazine didn't hold my interest so I glanced around. No one was talking. Everyone looked calm on the outside, but I wondered what storms swirled inside?

The door opened and a younger lady was called back for a mammogram. Shortly after, she returned and found a seat near me, quickly burying her head in a magazine. She was probably waiting for results and trying to hide her concern.

I returned to my magazine and wondered, maybe I should steel myself for bad news. If the technologist comes back with a concern from the doctor, a suspicious spot, or more calcifications which is how they caught my cancer, I could be swept up into the frantic pace of an ultrasound and even a biopsy.  Maybe I should prepare.

Then I reminded myself that, if that should happen, God's grace would meet me there.  I thought of the verse do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God (Philippians 4:6).  I admit I didn't know it verbatim at the time, but I knew enough of the words to know the verse doesn't stop at, do not be anxious. While the exact wording evaded me and my phone was locked up in my locker at the time, I knew I wasn't supposed to be sitting there actively trying not to worry, but I was to replace that fear with prayer and praise. 

I prayed for my films, that they would be clear. I prayed for the other women in the waiting room. I thanked God for carrying me thus far, for always providing what I needed at the time. For providing me with peace. For His grace.

The technician called me back. I noticed she didn't have a piece of paper. She told me the doctors were behind but she hadn't forgotten me. I smiled, thanked her, and returned to the waiting room.

I refilled my coffee cup with hot water. After the coffee, I wanted to rehydrate and the warmth was calming. I sat back in peace, knowing God already knew. 

A few more women went back for their mammograms and left.  A few new ones joined us. 

I was on my second cup of hot water when the technician called me back, this time with the white paper that held my fate. She led me into a corner space and said, "Everything is fine. We will see you in a year. "  I smiled, tucked the paper securely in my palm, and went back through those doors for the final time, grateful. 

The one thing I noticed was I didn't have the same elation I felt the first couple of times I heard those words. It wasn't because they were any less meaningful, but this time they weren't ushered in with a sudden release of fear. I already was calm. Now I felt gladness. Thankful. Securely loved.

Benign.

One of my favorite words.

One part of my screening is done. I left blood behind at the oncology center to be screened for tumor markers and other indicators of potential problems. My bones were also screened, since the lack of estrogen in my body affects bone density.  I'm hoping the exercises I try to include daily, nutrition and supplements counterattack the lack of estrogen which my body needs to ward off cancer. It's the delicate balancing act. A tightrope that cancer patients tiptoe, side effects versus benefits, statistics versus evidence. Cancer stalks, lies hidden, evades detection so we cannot know for sure if it's been eradicated. Thus, we fight the invisible enemy with all our guns, hoping it's enough.

I'll know on November 1st.

I don't wait in fear but in surety of the God who knows my future. I fill my days with praise and prayer, easily distracted with the pace of daily activities with three teenagers. But every once in awhile, I wonder. Will a tumor marker be elevated, revealing something for which I have no symptoms yet? Then I remember all the previous times of useless worry, remember God's words are not only true, but they are vital to living in the present.

Today, I'm cancer free. It's all I need to know. I'll leave the rest up to God. 

As I finish this post, I want to remind anyone reading this that if it's time for your mammogram, let me encourage you to pick up the phone and schedule it. Remember I didn't have a family history, and 80% of breast cancer diagnoses do not have one. You are at risk because you are a woman and getting older. So, please, schedule your mammogram. It takes time. It's uncomfortable. It's a bit scary. But without it, you will miss out on a vital piece of your health knowledge. You can't fight what you don't know.

Besides, who wouldn't want to wear a rose gown, open in the front, and covered securely by a warm, cream-colored robe?