Scenes: I Don’t Have Cancer

Only one life via Redhead Reverie


It was the usual morning cluster, only this time I had to take a quick detour to the hospital before heading to the office.


I was going in for a make-up boob smoosh {aka mammogram}. It wasn’t a big deal. I had already blown it off once. The tech said it would happen, because I was a mammogram virgin and I’m cup-challenged.


After navigating morning traffic {good morning dude who pulled out in front of me}, hospital construction and the maze of hallways, I finally made it to my destination. Upon first glance I would have thought I’d entered a spa with soothing music, refreshments and my robe-shirt. I half expected someone to give me a massage. Instead I received a giant clamp on my boob and ribcage. Good times.


“So we just need to get a closer look at the masses,” the tech said as she cupped my boob in her freakishly cold hands and smooshed it under the clamp.


Umm…ok. WTH! I thought it was just a redo not a “we need to look at masses more closely” appointment.


I took a deep breath, and repeated over and over in my head “it’s nothing.”


Just like all the other doctor appointment I go to where I think I have a disease only to find out it’s a cold. Yep, it’s like that.


After Miss Frigid Hands finished her thousandth time of fondling and smooshing my boobs. She finally sent me back to the spa, to wait for my results. I was still waiting for that damn massage, which I really could have used right about then. Just about the time I was ready to write a Twitter commentary about the GMA wedding pantsuit story {don’t do it ladies} one of the techs appears.


She calls a name, the lady next to me raises her hand, like we are in a classroom waiting to be called into the principal’s office. Lucky for her she gets to go free. “We’ll see you next year,” says the tech in her perky voice.


I hear the woman whisper “Thank God” as she passes by me on her way to the dressing room.


Two minutes later Perky Voice returns and releases another woman.


{In}Patiently I sit there antsy because I should be at work by now and I don’t want to stay late and make up my time.


Then out he came, wearing a white jacket and a chart in his hand. My chart.


He introduces himself, says he’s the doctor and asks if I’d step into the consultation room with him.


“It’s nothing,” I keep repeating in my head, but my heart is beating wildly and I feel the burning of tears behind my eyes.


He tells me the mass are probably nothing just calcium deposits.


He’s not worried, because they don’t look “ugly”.


I’ll just need another exam in 6 months to check on them.


It’s nothing to worry about.


I exhale.


Then I worry.


Technically, I could have ticking time bomb in my chest. What if one day the masses decide to get “ugly”? Then what?


I had always joked that I’d be able to find a mass right away in my cup-challenged boobs, because I’d have to go up a bra size. HAR … HAR…


But these masses were tiny, silent and I couldn’t even feel them.


There was no way of knowing.


Then it hit me …


I dodged death today.


They say your life flashes before your eyes when you think you are going to die. I’m not sure that’s what it was or if a light bulb just turned on and shined so bright I finally saw everything for what it was.


The dirty house, the work bullshit, the money problems, the dumbass that cut me off that morning, none of it mattered.


What mattered was my family, with all their imperfections and craziness I was going to see them today and every day. I was going to be around to experience it all… the good, bad, funny, sad all of it.


I smiled.


The irony isn’t lost on me. Years ago when I was in the bowels of depression begging for my pain to go away, for ME to go away, and I was so mad at being here on this Earth. I just didn’t get the point of it all….the good, bad, funny and sad.


I finally get it.


I only get one life. What I do with it is up to me.


I can wallow and sit in pits of despair. Comparing myself to others, fueling myself on jealousy and hate, or I can live my life with






Nose doinks.


And giggles.


I choose to LIVE.

8 thoughts on “Scenes: I Don’t Have Cancer

  1. A couple of years ago, I had to have a neck cyst looked at. The doc told me it was nothing and took samples and sent to the lab. When I returned for a follow-up, he said “Well, you don’t have cancer.” I didn’t even realize anyone thought it was a possibility! Things like this really make you wake up. You are right–focus on what matters!
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