It was the phone call every woman dreads. I got it on Wednesday. My cell rang and I didn't recognize the number. I answered anyway.
"Mrs. Slaughter? This is the Intermountain Breast Care Center. . ."
Gulp. I didn't breathe for a minute and don't think I heard her next statement clearly.
"The radiologist found a spot on your mammogram. We need you to come in again. Can you be here Friday at 4:15."
"A. .a. . .a. . .", I stuttered. "Sure. I mean, okay, what time." I really hadn't heard what she said.
I had never expected a call-back. I've had at least fifteen mammograms and all had been completely normal. But then again, my maternal grandmother died of breast cancer when she was fifty-nine and I'm sixty-one.
For two days, I created every terrible scenarios in my head. Do I go for the mastectomy like my grandmother? What about reconstruction surgery? Will I lose my hair from the radiation? Will I be vomiting my guts out every day? Should I make my will? I've got to clean my house. Should I be buried like most my family or cremated like my sister?
Stupid, right? But that's how my mind works. It always darts off in the direction of the worst possible situations.
To make a long story short, I went yesterday to the IHC Breast Care Center, had more mammograms in which the spot miraculously DID NOT reappear! Phew! Dodged the bullet.
Faith is believing the best will happen. That what God has in store for you is what needs to happen to help you learn and grow. I know that in my heart. But my mind is a different matter. I have not trained it to believe in good outcomes.
Unbelievably, my husband also had a "C" scare this week. He's been sick for weeks with what the Doctor called prostatitis. It has many causes, one of them being cancer. He had a CT scan yesterday and also got the ALL CLEAR. His cause is probably from riding his bicycle in 100-200 miles races.
We were both very lucky (blessed) on the same day. It was my husband's birthday, by the way.
Other women in the Breast Care Center yesterday were not as lucky. They left in tears.
Other men in radiology at the hospital were not as lucky yesterday.
I salute all you women and men out there who have had the dreaded phone call, have learned the worst and WHO HAVE SURVIVED!