So a couple of weeks ago, I went for the annual boob-smashing. Not something I enjoy, but good for peace of mind. Although I confess to being pretty nervous this time around. For some reason this year, something kept telling me to call and schedule the appointment. Then for days leading up the big event, it seemed that everywhere I looked, whether on the internet, or on the TV or on a billboard, breast cancer was always the topic. Case in point: Several days before, I dreamed I had cancer. The next morning, some noted person had passed away from breast cancer. A few days later, it was the top story on "Sunday Morning". And when I tried to change the channel, it was an old Law and Order episode about, what else? Breast cancer. It was as if the Universe was conspiring against me.
By Monday morning, when it was time for the appointment , I was a total wreck. I was sweating (this without any deodorant, since they don't let you wear that when you go), and hyperventilating, and I just knew it was going to come back with bad news.
Then came the waiting game. Because it takes a week to ten days for the results to come back. I waited and waited. Finally, the day came and the results arrived by mail. And - drum roll - I was cancer free. What? The universe puts me through all that, and I don't have cancer? Thank heaven and everything, but man! How about next year we play nice, ok? Sheesh!
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