(Heads up: If you are one of my co-workers who reads this blog, I'm going to be talking about my boobs in this post. If you think you can read this and still look me in the eyes, fine, read on. If this might make you uncomfortable, stop now. I'll go back to being funny another day.)
So these past few weeks have been so stressful. I'm waiting to hear where Little Dog will go to kindergarten. I'm trying to work with Little Dog's teacher to make his last few weeks there go well. I'm dieting. And that was all enough to make me jumpy and cranky. I was already having nightmares and crying spells. I was not coping well. Then I found a lump in my breast.
It wasn't what I'd been taught to look for in my self exam. It wasn't deep in the tissue. It wasn't fixed and unmovable. It wasn't irregularly shaped. But it was a lump. In my freakin' breast. So I did what I usually do. I freaked out a bit. I turned to Dr. Google. Slightly reassured by the net diagnosis for a change I still talked to Mr. Dog about the lump. He also agreed that it was probably nothing based on the location and the other items I mentioned above, but we also agreed that since it was stressing me out, I should get it checked.
The thing is, I hate going to the doctor. They frighten me. I'm always afraid they'll give me some horrible news or at very least a vague and ominous diagnosis. So I did what I usually do, I kept finding reasons I couldn't have time to make that appointment. When I called, they put me on hold too long. My meeting schedule was out of control. I had other stuff that I needed to get done. I stalled for a good few days. In those days I managed to get not one but two migraines. And when the second one hit, I couldn't find my medication. So I called the doctor to get a refill. And since I was on the phone with them anyhow, I decided to make an appointment. After I told them what I needed, they were able to get me an appointment in 30 minutes. I barely had time to drive to the office, but it was exactly what I needed to get me in to be checked.
As I waited to be seen, my anxiety grew. I became more and more stressed that something really was wrong. I was kicking myself for being so cowardly that I may have ignored a serious health risk. When the doctor finally came into the room and asked how I was, I started to cry. I explained what I was there for and gave some context about why I'd put off coming in. After sobbing out the basics, I managed to pull myself together enough to continue, I told her what I needed. "I'm pretty sure it is nothing, but I need you to tell me that it is nothing."
A quick exam later, she did just that. "It's nothing. Really, nothing." And when she gave me the news I burst into tears anew. This time they felt amazing. I have never been so relieved in my life. I hadn't realized just how much I'd suppressed my fear that this was not nothing. In fact, after crying for a few minutes, my migraine seemed to lift as well. At least I can cross this off my list of shit to worry about, and that's a huge help right now.
Pasta ala Fridge
5 years ago