Two weeks ago I went for my annual mammogram. After the technician had the radiologist look at the initial scans she came back to the room where I waited and said that I need to talk to him. On one side there were spots that weren't there last year.
Given my family history, we lost mom to ovarian cancer almost six years ago, he thought this was something that should be look at further. The cluster of small spots were most likely calcium deposits, he told me, by looks of their shape and size. I had two options. The first was to wait six months and see if they grew. The other was to have them biopsied.
I don't know about you, but the thought of letting something bad continue to grow inside me, not knowing what it is, bothered me. So, the radiologist along with my doctor arranged to have the biopsy scheduled.
I told Himself that I didn't want to talk about it with anyone. I thought my sister and her husband had enough to worry about with her bad back situation. And why get Dad and my in-laws upset for no reason?
Well, we know how that turned out. I had a hissy fit with God.
When Fr. Ed visited on Sunday evening, Himself still kept my confidence and didn't say anything.
The biopsy was last Monday. It was supposed to be as painless as these things can possibly be, which I suppose it was. A combination of nerves and the weird position I was in during the test made it difficult for me to catch my breath and I had a bit of a panic attack. Let's just say this was an experience that I don't wish to repeat.
On Sunday, walking back to our pew after communion, it hit me. Had I told Fr. Ed what was going on, he could have prayed and/or anointed me. Had I told Sis and other family and friends, they could have prayed as well.
I think it was stubborn pride that I didn't want to say anything to anyone. I can handle this on my own. Yeah right! I was a ball of nerves for several days (see above hissy fit) and it put a lot of pressure on Himself.
We haven't gotten the results of the test back yet. I was told it would take seven to ten days. From the research I've done on the net, there is only about a two percent chance that it is actually cancer.
So I bring it to you, my friends. Can you say a prayer?