Thursday, February 8, 2007

Send This To Someone You Love

I found it late last night.

The lump.
On the right side.

Clearly there. No mistake.

I usually don't write posts about things this personal but I feel I have no choice tonight - it just wants to spill out of my pen. So here goes. Maybe you can relate.

I've gotta tell ya. I'm not a weak woman; have weathered hurricane force trials in my life and consider myself to be -according to friends - "a strong person."
But I haven't had fear strike at my heart like this ever before.
It was overwhelming.

The conversations I've had with myself during what I am now calling 'the longest 16 hours of my life' (well....labor was a close second but I've sort of forgotten that) were irrational......hysterical.....insane.....and still somehow, I managed to do a few things right.

Maybe it was a mistake, Mimi. Check again.

The other side. Nothing.
The right's still there and I'm sore.
Ever felt like someone kicked you in the stomach?
I couldn't breathe.
I couldn't even speak.
There was a knot in the pit of my being that wouldn't go away.

It's funny what goes through your mind at a time like this.
It wasn't panic exactly.
Just fear.
Pure and simple terror.

When was the last time you did a self breast exam, Mimi?
Two months ago? Three?

But I don't need to. I just had a mammogram a few months ago.

Didn't I?

Let me think. Yes.....I remember it clearly. Everything was fine.
I never miss my mammograms.

But what about your monthly self examinations, Mimi?
What about those?

I don't know what made me do one last night. Something just didn't feel right. OK girl, get yourself together. You just had a nice long pleasant conversation on the phone with a friend - lots of laughter. That made you happy, didn't it? Let's forget about this for awhile and just go to bed. Think about happy things. It will be better in the morning. Nothing to fear. You're just imagining things.
I took a shower.

Hmmm....well. While I'm in here I really should check again.
They say you should always check in the shower. Right?

I couldn't do it.

I wouldn't.
I didn't want to know. I wanted to forget about it.

I went to bed. No sense upsetting myself anymore.

This morning I did check again.
It was still there.
Like I thought it would magically disappear?
Well.....yes. I guess I did.

My knees were weak.
I couldn't eat breakfast.
My hands were shaking.

Such are the fears of a woman with a lump in her breast.


Numbness. Rehearsal. Make doctor's appointment. Take the afternoon off.
Three hours later I'm in my family physician's office being poked and prodded. I was so glad to be there. He would tell me every thing's OK and I am imagining it.
It took him 2 seconds to find the lump and report "I don't think it's anything to worry about but you need a mammogram."

Oh my God, I'm going to die!
That's exactly what I thought.

I sat straight up. "You mean you found a lump too?!" I said.
(sometimes Mims is slow.....bear with me. After all, that's why I was there.)
"Are you sure you felt something?" looking around to find his medical degree on the wall. Where was it??!!

My doctor collects cartoon memorabilia. I'm sitting in an office talking about breast cancer with Daffy Duck and Tweety Bird for company.
What makes him think I could possibly take him seriously?
"Yes. Feels like a cyst. We'll set you up with a surgeon."

Mimi falls back down.

Grabs her breast.

"On ME?! Here?! Not there! On ME? .....a surgeon?!"

I look up and there is a picture of Mickey Mouse celebrating his 8th birthday. Mickey is happy. Minnie is happy. Everybody is happy.
Mimi is dying but everybody else is having a birthday party.

On the opposite wall Sylvester the Cat is chasing Tom and Jerry around and around. Sylvester has a maniacal look on his face and is wielding a knife.
Mimi is not amused.
Don't you think the good doctor could find something a little less violent to put on the wall of his exam room? How comforting is a dagger?

And they're going to use an actual knife......
On ME?

Nurse leaves. Makes a phone call. I call my sister. I call my girlfriends-who-will-drop-everything-and-pray-no-matter-what and drive out of town to my diagnostic appointment. No matter what is happening in our lives, when push comes to shove I can always count on certain people to pray for me, encourage me, listen and love me. Thank God for good friends.

But this is not good. What is he not telling me?! He wasted no time getting me in to see a specialist. I know he's lying with that nothing-to-worry-about line. He just doesn't want to be the one to tell me I'm going to die.

Two hours later I walk into the Diagnostic Imaging Center and prepare to meet my Maker.

I look around. No cartoons.
I feel so out of place. Where is Elmer Fudd?
I would prefer a lighter atmosphere. Maybe a wine spritzer, some chocolates, a slow dance with Mr. Handsome. Anything but this.
They have artificial flowers in here for heaven's sake! All over the place. Big arrangements of silk flowers. It looks like a funeral home. The tables are elegant and the chairs overstuffed. It's such a comfortable place.

And where are the young people?
Like ME?
Why am I here with all these old people? There are two ladies in their eighties waiting to be seen and a very antsy husband or two - one with a cane and the other sleeping. Only a man could sleep at a time like this.
Mrs. Nice Lady #1 walks over to the perky funeral flowers beside me and leans down
......Don't come near me, I thought. I don't want to talk to you or these flowers. Just leave me alone.
"Aren't they beautiful?" she asked.
I rolled my eyes.
"Sure" I thought, "if you're into dirges."

Mrs. Funeral Vampire is escorted to Tomb #3 and I slip into Suite #1.
In no time I am fumbling with the over -sized blue paper thingy you wear that opens in the front. I pick up the smallest one I can find and it still swallows me. I'm in a closet space neatly folding my clothes and hiding my purse - just in case there are thieves in the place - and it occurs to me that perhaps if I put my clothes back on and leave no one would notice.
I don't like the way this thing looks on me. It's too big!
I'll come back when they find appropriate attire for such an occasion.

They don't even have music in this place.
Where's the music for heaven's sake?!

I sat down on the bench in the little room. I knew they were waiting for me. I heard the coffin lady come out and sit down. She is talking to another lady about those blasted flowers. Will she ever shut up?
Apparently, the funeral home decorator has decided to fill the plants with Christmas lights. Oh, THAT's a nice touch. We'll all sing Deck the Halls. Could my life get any cheerier?

If I stay in this room, I thought, I can put off the squeeze machine for a little while longer. I won't have to talk about x-rays and invisible lumps and answer a million questions like
'Are you sure you're not pregnant?'
"When's the last time you had a mammogram?"
(I was HERE. Don't you know? Where are my records? You're supposed to have my records! I shouldn't have to tell you these things. I'm incoherent.)


The Cheerful Undertaker (Nurse #1) calls flower woman back to the embalming room. They must have forgotten about me. That's good. Maybe they think I went home.

I opened my purse. Took out my hairbrush.

Standing in front of the mirror in my safe healthy cocoon I began to brush my hair. It's dark and long. Just like it was when I was a teenager. Stroke one - stroke two - I don't have time for this. What am I doing here?. ...Stroke three - I have half my life ahead of me with dreams to chase and plans to make. I don't want to be here.
Stroke four - stroke five....
I love my hair. I'm vain about it. My grandmother taught me to brush it 100 strokes every night before I went to bed. Many times she sat on the edge of the bed and did just that. Her hair was so long she could sit on it and she used to put it up in a beautiful French Twist everyday - sometimes mine, too. I'll lose my hair if I have cancer. I don't want to lose my hair. It reminds me of my grandmother.

Eight.....nine.....I wish she were here. She would tell me what to do. She would tell me if I had to open the door and go inside the waiting room. She would help me not to be afraid.

OK Mimi.
Put down the brush.
Zip up your purse.

I looked in the mirror again.

I don't look old.
I am not old.
I am not sick.

I'm fine.

I touched my face and fixed a mascara run. When were you crying? I don't remember crying today. I remember being afraid but I do not remember crying.. ....Fix your face, Mimi.

Your grandmother would hold your hand but she would not allow you a pity party. She would kick your prissy behind into gear with her 'It'll be OK' smile and tell you to buck up.

It's time to open the door.

The Silky Flower Lover has been told she can leave. All is well. No problem. See you in a year, Mrs. Cheery.

I plopped down on the too-comfortable-for-a-pity-party sofa and pretended to read a magazine. The first page I found was an advertisement for Breast Cancer Awareness.
Oh great.
A theme party.
Just what I wanted today.
Let's all guess why we're HERE?
Give it a rest will ya? I'm trying to forget the lump in my breast. Can't you see that? I don't want to read your stupid advertisement. There are pamphlets everywhere with instructions for doing breast exams, a video to watch, complimentary coffee and awkward stillness. Isn't anyone up for a conversation? We could bond like women do and talk about men since there aren't any around. Can't we?
It's way too quiet in here.
And the worst part?

The door to the doctor's office was open. Right in front of me. I could see the xrays under the light. I could hear him discussing the findings with his nurse. He was pointing at them and analyzing every detail out loud for all to hear. Every time I tried not to listen I heard something about 'the right breast'.....always the right.....why not the LEFT? Can't any of you have a problem with the left today?
Is this some kind of joke?
Are you really sitting there with the door open making us guess which one you're talking about?
He said 'the right' Mimi. Weren't you listening?

OH MY GOD I'm going to die!

Get a grip, Mimi.
You haven't even had your mammogram yet.

Oh yeah. You're right.
Sigh of relief.

"MIMI Pencil Skirt. Step this way, please."
Jolted back to reality after having spent my last few moments on earth making a list of songs to sing at my cremation, I stood up, blue paper flapping in the breeze and followed her.

A litany of questions,a snarky technician, another ultrasound and five or six excruciating contortions on a steel table and I was done.

I thought.

Back in the smelly flower parlor I was ready to be told I could go home.
Enough of this nonsense. I have places to go and people to see.
Shopping to do and dances to dance. Presents to buy. Planes to catch. Books to write. Flowers to grow - that don't smell of death - and lots and lots of hugs to give. I should be making pasta today or taking an art class. I want to make love in the rain someday. Sing in a cathedral. Go to Italy. I need to work on the peace globe project. So much to do.

I'm tired of waiting.


It was the voice of Dr. Doom, whose door was now stretched open for me.
"Have a seat, please. Mimi......"

Why is he talking so slow? Spill it!

"After looking at these reports and comparing the two I find......"

I wonder if paisley would look good on the pillow in my casket. Nice touch. Unusual. No one would forget she wore paisley in her coffin. Now how could anybody forget a girl like that? That silly Mimi......

"Miss Skirt? Did you hear me?"

"Yes, doctor?"

I said "I find no abnormalities. No lumps. Nothing suspicious. Just fibrocystic changes. You're free to go. See you back here in a year."

All I could say was "Thank you, Doctor" and I left.

You would think after having this experience today I would be proclaiming meaningful epiphanies and writing soliloquies and such.


All I know is that for sixteen hours my world revolved around one little lump. And what did I learn?

That never again do I want to drive to a doctor's office regretting that I neglected to do my monthly self-exams. That's what I learned.
This time, all is well and I am fine. I am incredibly grateful and relieved.
But had there been a problem, I would have forever regretted that I didn't take the time to check myself like I know darn well to do EVERY MONTH.

So girlfriends, take it from Mimi.....

Who is reminding you - after half losing her mind today - to GET YOUR MAMMOGRAM and DO YOUR CHECKS.
Every year.
Every month.

NOTE: Male readers - Remind your wife or significant other to do the same.
National Breast Cancer Awareness Month
National Mammogram Day


My Marrakech said...

This was an instant replay of what happened to me just three weeks ago! What a great, well written post. And please, the skies are looking a little overcast today. Get out there and grab yourself a nice hunk of man just in time for the rain shower. Who says dreams can't come true?

Meloncutter said...

Printed this off for the spouse.

Thank you

Later Y'all

~*SilverNeurotic*~ said...

My mother found a lump once, it was serious enough for them to operate and remove it for a biopsy. Luckily it was benign. It was pretty scary, despite the fact I was pretty young and really didn't understand exactly what was going on.

Bud Weiser, WTIT said...

Very brave. To endure and share. Well written and frightening.


Bond said...

WOW... I just returned from spending those 16 hours with you.
On a day when I specifically mention your site, the people who come over will get to read this impassioned essay.
My heart is thrilled that the news you received was positive...
Your message was even more positive.
Thank you for sharing like you did.

Christine said...

Oh, dear God, Mimi~ you had me. Boy, did you have me. I was too scared to want to laugh at your humorous writing, and that's saying something, because this was so funny (and so true!)!

I went through something like this, so Iknowhowyafeel comes readily to the table.

Never made love in the rain~ a bed of ivy in the woods, yes (and turned out some poison ivy was around in there somewhere, but he got all that, so what did I care?). Very romantic. But I agree with you, I'd love to make love in the rain before I die...and hopefully not get arrested, while I'm at it...

Those friends who will drop everything and pray, they're GOLD.

Turnbaby said...

Thank you for sharing the nightmare that we all have going tippy toe about these things.I do mine more than once a month--just paranoid. I do need to get the mammogram though--ugh--

Anndi said...

A few years ago.. before even having my 35th birthday, the same thing happened to me.. I thought many of the same things as you.. and luckily my OBGYN took it seriously, sent me to have my girls smooshed.. which is no snmall feat cause I'm tiny, and there ain't much to smoosh.. of course, the technician just had to call me back in and do it again 'just to be safe'.. have you ever wondered what that machine would do to a head? I came up with a visual... it was highly satisfying!
So it turns out, everything was fine.. but I check.. a lot..

Thank you for sharing.. it was beautifully written and now that I know you're ok.. I can read it again and laugh out loud..

Yaxlich said...

Yaxlich echoes what Anndi said. He will now read the post again without worrying.

Angell said...

Mimi, I surfed on over from THE COUCH, and I'm glad I did.

You are a wonderful writer, and I'm sorry for your scare. But thank you for reminding us not to take our health for granted and to be vigilant.

Thank you for sharing your worries and your 16 hours.

Velvet Cowboy said...

You'll be in my thoughts. What a touching post.

gem said...

I've been where you are, mimi. I've been in that place, also because of cysts, and it was at times terrifying. I have not gotten another mammogram and I have neglected other diagnostic tests. You remind me that I neglect at my own peril, so I'm thankful, very thankful for that reminder. I'm just sorry you had to go through what you did.

Chrysalis Angel said...

I wish I had, had your good outcome. I was no where near 40, and the first day I had to walk into that chemo circle with all those older folks looking at me with deep pity in their eyes, I wanted to bolt. I want to see that baseline moved way up. There are many women dying in their 20's. People think it's only a worry after 40. I would have been dead. And yes, I found it myself. The way the Dr.s' do the exams, they'd never find it. I mean no offense to the many Dr.s out there, but it's true. They won't find that, with they way they check. Do it yourself! Best to you.

madd said... very glad all is well, my heart was pounding so hard as I read your brave to post and such an important reminder to never forget..take care and again I am so very pleased all is well..m

julie said...

First of all Thank You Vinny for ushering your readers over here.

Mimi...I am speechless at your excruciating candor. I dont think I have read you before, but I will return.

I had a similar scare as I know many women have, yet these are MY twins and I want them to grow old with me as I continue to age. I had 4 days to wait for my second test results. Ive gone through this several times and I am beginning to wonder if it is all insurance scams. Its horrifying and my heart goes out to all who have to endure this emotional trauma.

Hugs to you, my friend.

ian said...

Goodness, I'm glad you're all right!

We haven't even had coffee yet, for Pete's sake!


Mimi Lenox said...

Maryam....I'm so glad you're OK. It's a very scary thing. Rain shower you say? he he

Mimi Lenox said...

Meloncutter....Thanks for stopping by. Always good to see you. I hope all is well with you!

Mimi Lenox said...

Silverneurotic....Thanks for sharing. It IS scary. I feel so lucky.

Mimi Lenox said...

I don't know about brave. Frightening, yes. Thanks for lending a shoulder when I needed it.

Mimi Lenox said...

Bond...Always a pleasure to see you. And thank you for mentioning my site this morning on your blog, as well as directing women here to read this. Thanks for always making me smile!

Mimi Lenox said...

Christine....Your romantic adventure sounds lovely (even with the poison ivy). I just know I'll get to live out my rain fantasy! I hope all is well with you. And yes, those praying friends are absolutely priceless.

Mimi Lenox said...

Yes, do need to get the mammogram, but you've been better than me about monthly exams. I'm changing that asap!

Mimi Lenox said...

anndi....Thanks for gracing my blog with your comments. Welcome. I'm sorry you went through that. All women share this same fear. It's a shame we can't find a cure. Surely soon.

Mimi Lenox said...

Yaxlich....Thank you for worrying. It means a lot.

Mimi Lenox said...

angell...Thanks for commenting and leaving such gracious words. You're right. We can't take our health for granted. Those self-checks are crucial. Boy did I learn my lesson.

Mimi Lenox said...

Thank you, Velvet Cowboy. I hope to see you again. I'm going to check out your blog. Thanks for sending positive thoughts my way. What a nice thing to say.

Mimi Lenox said...

Gem, my friend. Get your mammogram. Don't make me come over there!

Mimi Lenox said...

Chrysalis Angel....Thank you for commenting. I'm sure you've gained a lot of wisdom through your ordeal. You've been through a lot. We must, we must, we must find a cure. Sometimes I wonder why it is taking so long. I will keep you in my thoughts and prayers. What an ordeal to go through to be so young.

Mimi Lenox said...

Madd...Thank you, my friend. I don't know about being brave but I do know I wanted - and needed - to tell that story. It's important and a 'cancer scare' touches men and women alike. I will not neglect my self-checks again. Take care.

Mimi Lenox said...

Julie.....Thanks for the hugs. I need one! You had to wait four days?? That would have been hell on earth. I don't know how you did it. Take care and please do visit me anytime. I'm going to check out your blog. Thanks for stopping by.

Mimi Lenox said...

Ian...Thanks, my male/writer/friend for stopping by and leaving a comment. A nice cup of coffee with Ian sounds great. Will you be sharing the secret of how you completed so many words during NaNo? Inquiring minds want to know.

Jan said...

At 29 I found two lumps in my left breast. I had to litterally throw one fit after another before I could get a doctor to do an exam. They did a needle biopsy, and it came back positive. Horrer. Fear. Terror. Shell shocked. I felt it all! I had to wait nearly three weeks before I could get in for surgery, poor women don't get the luxury of choice. Long story short, the lumps were transitional-no longer benign, but not quite cancerous.

I understand what you felt.

Lizza said...

Goodness, Mimi. That must have been a terrifying experience. I'm glad you're okay. Thank you for letting us know of your ordeal.

red-dirt-girl said...

Wow......compelling......i couldn't stop scrolling down until the end.......every woman's fear: a lump; a "bad" pap earache that won't clear up (yes a friend had ear cancer...) is so unpredictable - a toss up - so random.......thank you for the all so important reminder: not only do our exams, but live life - every precious moment of it.....!
red dirt girl

-Princess Shin- said...

Wow.. I have a hard time pursuading my mum to go for a mammogram! She finally went last year. Its really scary this breast cancer thing. Glad you're ok! =)

Thanks for sharing!

Paul said...

You've got the readers' emotion bouncing off the walls with your own. That's fine writing. Glad you're okay. Damn those fibrocystic changes.

Bad-Ass Sis said...

Found your blog via Peggy (of "as she is" fame). Your message is critical, your talent for putting your reader right there in the thick of the experience profound. I've put it off and put it off. Your thoughts were my worst fantasy of the "what if" experience. Your message resonates farther and clearer than any television public service announcement ever could. You have done more, I imagine, to further the cause than you probably ever dreamed. I will make that appointment asap. So will so many other women who are fortunate to have the $#!% scared out of them by your honest, heartwrenching account of your own terrifying ordeal. Your message is a gift to many. Without a cure, preventation and early detection are our best weapons. Yet how easy to shelve the worry because we are "busy", or simply don't relish the thought of having "the girls" contorted and flattened within an inch of their former selves.

Thank you for "baring your breasts" for the good of so many women you will likely never meet.

My wish for you is continued good health...thank you, a million times, thank you.

Peg's Bad-Ass Sis

Epiphany Alone said...

Glad that it turned out to be nothing to worry about. Whew, you need a vacation after a day like that! I need a vacation just reading that story.

Mimi Lenox said...

Jan! Three WEEKS? That's insane. How awful for you. I'm so glad you're doing well now. It is quite an ordeal but one women need not walk through alone. Thanks for sharing.

Mimi Lenox said...

Lizza...Thanks. Now, where IS that man who wants to make love in the rain??!

Mimi Lenox said...

red-dirt-girl...."Random" seems to be accurate with regard to breast cancer. It strikes so indiscriminately and cruelly. Thanks for reading and sharing. Pass the word.

Mimi Lenox said...

princess-shin....Yes, it's scary. But it's empowering to know we can do SOMETHING by keeping our appointments and checking checking checking. I have to believe they're coming out with better technology soon. It's so past the time for a cure.

Mimi Lenox said...

Paul...We appreciate the male comments today. Thanks for the kind words and wishes.

Mimi Lenox said...

Bad-ass sis....What a gracious comment. Thank you. I hope what you say is true about others being convinced to get their checkups. If you are doing so because of my post, then I am humbled and send you positive prayers and good vibes. Women listen to women on issues that matter to women. It's that simple. It should matter to all of us really. I am touched also by the number of men who've commented today. Good for them. What a caring thing to do. We need support when things like this happen. Thank you again for reading and sharing.

Elaine said...

I was very touched by your post about the lump - I am bad. I'm 53 and have never had a mammogram, although my doctor keeps pushing me to go.

It's hard to explain why I'm so resistant. I think it's because if I heard those words, then I'm afraid I'd make the worst come true. Does that make sense? No.

Shutting up now,

P.S. I'm so glad everything turned out all right for you!

Bazza said...

Mimi, I've been away from my computer for a few days so I'd thought have a look in on some of my favourite bloggers. Of course that includes you; what a shock I had! I'm still shaking after reading that and my eyes are moist. Thank you for being so brave and sharing your experience in such an honest way. I'm off to remind Mrs Bazza to keep up her regular checks! The world can't spare people like you!

Sunflower Optimism said...

Oh, Mimi, I was reading about your terror and thought "I know that exact feeling." I experienced a bloody discharge and my doctor sent me to a breast surgeon who recommended a biopsy (what else would a surgeon recommend?)

I got to my car after the surgeon's exam and just sat there, shaking. I had a dear friend in the end stages of a seven year battle with breast cancer. I remember saying aloud "God, I'm so scared." I have a 6 CD cassette in that car that was set to random song play, so when I finally stopped shaking enough to turn the ignition on, the music started. The very first words I heard? "Fear destroys," lyrics from a Yes CD that was in there. I couldn't believe what I heard and played the song over several times to make sure. I have learned over my lifetime that there are no coincidences. I knew I had to take the message of those lyrics to heart and battle the fear before I could battle anything else.

Thank God my biopsy was negative - the problem was a papilloma, which the surgeon removed. The biopsy was the Monday before Thanksgiving; I got the results on Wednesday. My dear friend passed away the following January 2nd.

Thank you Mimi for reminding us to keep up with our exams and for reminding me of the time I learned "fear destroys."

Mimi Lenox said...

Elaine...I hope this pushes you one step further to get a mammogram. Read Sunflower's comment on fear. Please go get your test, Elaine.

Mimi Lenox said...

Thank you, my dear friend Bazza. I hope every male reading this will remind the woman he loves to do the same.

Mimi Lenox said...

Sunflower....What an experience you had. I'm sorry you had to go through that and can totally relate. The song you heard was NO ACCIDENT. THANK YOU FOR SHARING THAT. Fear does question.

Mimi Lenox said...

Epiphany....Thanks for your kind comment. It certainly was a roller coaster ride. Not a fun one.

wolfbaby said...

my mom died from breast cancer 20 yrs ago.. i know how scary that is i found a lump once and luckily it was just an infection.. but i was terrified till i seen the doc..Glad your ok to..

Travis said...

At the age of 17, my lady lost her mother to breast cancer. Just 2 months later, my lady's father killed himself because he couldn't bear to live without his sweet girl.

I want to thank you for writing this story.

Claude said...

Glad for you it turned out to be nothing to worry about.
I went through the same experience, two and a half years ago (that's when I started blogging) but ended up having surgery and radiation therapy. No fun there, but now everything is in order. Except for the worry, the visits to doctors. Don't ever miss a mammograph.
Thanks for visiting my site

that frolicsome kid said...

Wow, thanks for sharing! It must have been a scary time for you, but thank goodness you came out alright! =) I'll remind my future wife/girlfriend/mother-in-law and my mother to do this monthly self-check up too =P.

Terra Shield said...

That must have been one of the most touching posts I've ever read. The emotion is so tangible. It's quite relieving to hear that it was a cyst instead of the big C.

Turnbaby said...

My sister had a lumpectomy on Wednesday.

Empress Bee (of the High Sea) said...

yup, had the very same thing happen, had to wait over a weekend to go in and it was very scary my friend. just so glad we are okay, thanks for sharing....

smiles, bee

Bond said...

An Instant replay that deserves to be replayed over and over and over.

"Angeldust" said...


Wow, I can imagine you mind's frantic roller coaster...

I found myself in a Doc's office at 9:30AM - after finding a lump in another spot the afternoon before.
At 11:00AM I was walking (on my own, you must imagine the state, and all alone, in a strange city)into the OR at the local Hospital for surgery...

Now, for the good things in life.
Passionate loving in pouring rain is definitely on the list - we have been talking about it !!!
:) (long distance)

Sweetie, take good care - biiiig hug

Annelisa said...

Phew - glad you're ok, Mimi!

I had a lump on my neck that was check and checked - I felt sure it was cancer, and with 4 young children, all that went through my mind was that I wasn't going to see them grow up, and they wouldn't remember me...

But, After the zillionth (seems like) examination I was given the all clear.... but it woke me up to a few things...

I'm not supposed to be blogging, so gotta go!

Stormdrane said...

Good post. Our imaginations can impose more fear/damage on us than what's real sometimes.

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