Today I had an appointment for my fourth round of mammograms in 11 months. Unlike the first three rounds, this one caused me to lose more than a little sleep. I really worried that I would be receiving some bad news today.
These appointments are mini-marathons in that you move about the place for hours on end in a giant white waffle-weave robe among a sea of women in identical robes. Sprinkled among the sea of white are a handful of pink robes. I was told the women wearing them are currently undergoing treatment or are cancer survivors.
It's a peculiar environment. I had no doubt that these women were feeling as antsy as I was yet there was a spa-like quality of relaxation about the room. Some women are sitting in full body massage chairs, others sit sipping coffee while they smile and nod as new women enter the room looking for a place to sit. Others are reading books about self discovery and spiritual journeys like "Eat Pray Love." I took my book "Three Cups of Tea" and curled up in the most comfortable chair I could find for the long wait.
As I looked around the room there was a painting of a cross on the wall, a giant statue of an angel on a table and a verse stenciled on the wall from the bible, the book of Jeremiah, I think, referencing hope and the future. Being agnostic, a somewhat reluctant one, I wondered if these were items that should be providing me with some level of comfort and I wondered how many of these women took comfort in them.
When my name was finally called and I walked down the hall to the exam room, I passed by Dr. Mize's office -- the doctor who always reads my films. I looked into the dark room to wave if she happened to be looking. She keeps the lights out, even during consultations, because it helps to see the diagnostic images on her computer monitor. As I glanced into the room a woman was sitting in her robe next to Dr. Mize and she was crying. I could tell they weren't tears of relief. I just kept walking and wondered to myself, "if that's me in about an hour, how am I going to respond to the news?" My gut told me that I would likely be my usual aloof self but I wasn't sure.
After the exam, I returned to the waiting area and relaxed in one of the massage chairs (in the shadow of the aforementioned giant angel) trying not to think too much about what might happen next. In a while I was called back again and told that Dr. Mize wanted another film so it was back to the exam room and then the waiting room once more.
Thirty minutes later, I was called back to talk to Dr. Mize. I sat in the chair in that dark room where the other woman had been crying. After a brief greeting, she turned to the monitor and said, "they look great!" I waited for her to finish it with, "...except for this giant pulsating tumor right here" but those words never came. She said, "yep, you are good, the area of concern turned out to be nothing to be concerned about. Lay off the caffeine because that's what causes these worrisome little spots and I'll see YOU in a year!"
I told her thank you, made some sort of a joke about being happy to see much less of her in the coming year, and went to the locker to get my clothes. I got dressed and left with an amazing feeling of relief. The kind of relief that makes you want to do a happy dance once you get out of the building and out of the sight of the people who are going through what you did just a couple of hours before.
I'm really glad I don't have to worry about this anymore. It's been a long and troubling year for me and "the girls."
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