Breathe

I'm sitting here talking to myself.

Stop holding your breath! Breathe deeeeep. Holding your breath won't make the time pass any quicker.

* * * *

I had my first mammogram last week. Whoopee, that was fun. And by fun, I mean, it sucked quite a bit. At my annual Lady Bits Checkup last fall, I was informed that turning 35 meant I would need to start having mammograms. My appointment was on Thursday. I got there early, filled out the paperwork, and sat in the waiting room. Oddly enough, it was the same waiting room I'd sat in when I was pregnant and waiting to find out the baby's gender. As I sat there, I couldn't shake the feeling that I wished Jack were there so we could talk and so I could think about anything but mammograms.

The nurse called me in. She kept staring at my chest. Occupational hazard? She asked me what size I am. Apparently there are 2 machines....one for Big Girls and one for Little Girls. The Big Girls machine was broken. I had to decide if I wanted to reschedule for another day or have my Big Girls squeezed into the Little Girls machine. I decided to go ahead and get it done since I was already there and prepped. And just so you know...the entire time we were having this conversation, she was staring at my Girls. Apparently she was trying to use her x-ray vision to see if I was lying about their size.

ow. ow. ow. Ow. OW. OOOWWW!

Was it the most uncomfortable thing in the world? No. Scratching the skin off my body while the c-section meds wore off? That was much more uncomfortable.

It was quick and fairly easy and I went home. I would be hearing from my doctor when the results were ready.

* * * * *

Breathe deep. In. And out. In. And out.

* * * * *

Dr. SS, my favorite physician ever, called yesterday. (Seriously, she should give lessons to other doctors on how to BE a good doctor.) Everything looks good so far, but they need some more pictures of the Girl On The Right. Apparently, they might not have squeezed her hard enough (I beg to differ) and they want to try again. Oh what fun.

As I was walking around Target this morning, my cell phone rang. It was the radiology office calling to schedule my second appointment. She mentioned something about having appointments available this week at one of the offices. What's the rush? Why is she trying so hard to fit me into the schedule? "The appointment will take an hour to an hour and a half. We'll do a mammogram and a sonogram. You'll get the results immediately." What is that knot in my stomach?! Why the hell am I short of breath?! "I'll have to call you back so I can find out if my husband can take time off work for the appointment." STOP holding your breath!

I called her back when I got home. Jack is taking tomorrow off, or just going into work late. My appointment is at 9am. And until then, I'm talking to myself.

* * * * * *

In 24 hours, you'll have your answer. Everything is fine.

Keep breathing. In. Out. In. Out.

They didn't do the mammo the right way so they just need to see it again.

It's nothing. Breathe!

In. Out. In. Out.

It has to be nothing.

Please, someone tell me it's nothing.