As each day passes with no message I wonder if they've lost my records, or if the news is so bad they're trying to figure out how to tell me. This year I also wondered whether I might have given them my phone number with the wrong area code.
I do this every year when I get a mammogram.
I can talk about this today because I got the "all is normal" in a form letter from the doc's office. Now my life can resume its normally scheduled events.
I am embarrassed to even write about this. Partly it's because I have family members and friends currently being treated for breast cancer, and if they happen to read this they may think I'm making light of the topic. Partly it's because I know mammograms are intended as screening tools so that anything amiss can be caught early when it's most treatable.
My head is a dangerous neighborhood to go into alone when I'm stuck in fear. It's happened with other subjects during my life. When I'm not afraid I can talk to anyone about anything under the sun. I have a feeling, though, that talking when I'm afraid might make sense.
Next time maybe I'll consider it.