Mammogram...Finally.

The letter came in the mail yesterday. 

I was by myself when I opened it and I have to say I was terrified.

Incredible how simple words written on a page can have such a powerful impact.

At the end of last year, I had a routine physical and talked to my doctor about having a mammogram.  I am older than the recommended age to begin these as I'll be turning 50 near the end of the year.  I really don't know why I hadn't gotten one before.  Perhaps part of me couldn't bring myself to do it.  I have normal aches and pains but have always been relatively healthy.  I had four pregnancies and four live births.  I breastfed all four.  I had always heard that was a positive as far as breast cancer goes.  So, I put off the mammogram. 

As I get older, I realize that my health is not only about me...it's about my family, as well.  I have a responsibility to them to take care of myself.  Ed and I are well into the empty nest stage of our lives and, even though the kids don't live with us full-time anymore, we look forward to the next phase for our family. 

Last year, we had a scare with Ed's health.  It jarred us all as we understood that things can change in an instant.  Luckily, he is fine now and is working toward becoming healthier for all of us, as well. 

I have no doubt my hesitation to seek any sort of medical testing has to do with my mom and my two grandma's.  They each died from cancer.  Mom had pancreatic; her mom had ovarian; and my other grandma had leukemia.  That, in itself, is scary for me as the next female in line.  But, deep down, I know that early detection of any cancer is the best chance for remission/survival.  It's just that I am inwardly afraid of hearing that word in association with me.  I've heard it too many times with loved ones.

I left that routine physical clutching an order for a mammogram.  I didn't call to schedule the appointment until after I woke up one morning from a disturbingly vivid dream.  This was months later.  The dream was so frightening that I called first thing in the morning.  Perhaps someone was telling me to just get the mammogram DONE!

I went this past Saturday to Passavant and had the best experience.  Not sure what I was expecting, but the woman who did my mammogram explained everything so well and put my mind at ease.  She definitely is in the right career.  I felt fortunate to have gone through my first mammogram with her.

My letter began:  "The above breast examination did not show any sign of cancer.  A return screening in one year is recommended."

I am now one of the millions who get mammograms. 

I am one of the lucky ones.  One year at a time.

It is what it is.

p

My Mother's Day Looks Different Now...

It's been nearly 13 years since I have shared a Mother's Day with my mom.

When I allow myself to truly think about that, I am overcome with emotions.  Sometimes it's sorrow which, in turn, brings tears.  Sometimes it's disbelief that she's really gone, which brings tears, too.  Even after all these years, I instantly feel the tears when I think of her and I don't feel like I will ever get past this point.

I've come to realize that my grief is a lifelong process and I've come to terms with that.  I've come to terms with the fact that I will never 'get over' her death;  that I will never forget holding her hand as she took her last breath; and that I will never stop struggling to find a way to live without her.

I remember that final Mother's Day as being so important.  We knew it was her last one.  She had been on hospice care and was in and out of consciousness.  She had a day or two of perfect clarity.  We were told this was normal toward the end.  One of those days happened to be Mother's Day.  I'm not sure she understood the importance of that day.  I had prayed we'd have this last holiday together.  The ironic thing is that I honestly can't remember what we did or what we said that day.  It's a blur.  I just remember I needed that time with her, for some reason.

I do know this.  It was peaceful.  It was beautiful.  That's all that matters.

When Sunday comes, I will be blessed to have all four of my children home with me.  I try to focus on the gifts I have been given and the ones I continue to receive.  My children each possess some of my mom's attributes.  She lives on in them and I only need to look into their faces to know she is still with us. 

I know I will have a wonderful day with family.  Ed and the kids go out of their way to make me feel loved.  But, yes, my mom will be on my mind and in my heart.  I know I will find a time to privately grieve for her in the midst of everything else that goes on that day.  It's what I do now.  It's my way to survive the day.  It's my reality now.

When Sunday comes, I will think of my friend, Sharon, who will be spending her first Mother's Day without her mom.  There are no words to prepare her for the emotions she'll feel and I ache for her.  But, she, too, has been blessed with a loving and supportive family.  She will find a way to survive the day.  She will find her new reality.

When Sunday comes, I will think of my friend, Tonia, who will be spending another Mother's Day without her mom and without one of her three children.  I can't say I know what she feels on this day.  While losing a parent is devastating, losing a child must be paralyzing.  She is one of the strongest women I know.  She has already found a way to survive her reality on a daily basis.  I think if I ever had a hero, it would be her.

Mother's Day looks different now. 

I'm not the same person I was at this time 13 years ago because my life is not the same. 

With each Mother's Day, I am slowly learning to live with it. 

It is what it is.

p