Somewhere along the way I told myself that hard things = bad things, and that I couldn’t do hard things. Isn’t it scary how those things we tell ourselves(or that others tell us) become our truth? So I was living under the false impression that I couldn’t do hard things. When I became a mom, everything got harder. Like really, really hard. So doing hard things was unavoidable and I had to learn the truth that hard does not equal bad. And that even when something is hard, I can do it. So what does this have to do with mammograms, right? Fair question.
The surprise factor of my recent mammogram was scary. When I say scary I don’t mean scary-scary like ‘Scream’. More unexpected-scary like ‘The 6th Sense’. (If these references don’t make sense, I’m not sure what to tell you other than I don’t get out much). When my ears hear the word ‘mammogram’, my brain translates that to fear and pain. Two of the things I avoid the most, thankyouverymuch. However, I didn’t have much of a choice and it ended up that my experience was much less torturous than expected. Now, it’s possible that it wasn’t super painful because I am very small chested. I’ve always related to that line from “Whenever, Wherever” by Shakira: “Lucky that my breasts are small and humble so you don’t confuse them with mountains.”
Shakira gets me.
Anyway, it didn’t hurt but it was very uncomfortable. The same way that lugging an infant car seat and attempting to hold the hand of a wayward toddler while crossing the street in a crowd is uncomfortable. Or the way holding your ground at checkout when your child is throwing a fit on the floor but you’ll be darned if their bad choices are going to derail your much needed errand today is uncomfortable. You might be sweating profusely, you might cry when you finally reach the sanctuary of your car – but you made it. It’s uncomfortable, but it’s not crippling.
If you are wondering how I ended up in a dark room on the basement floor of East Alabama Medical Clinic topless if I didn’t expect for it to be that way – well, sister, you and me both. Basically I was having some pain that didn’t seem to go away, so after a visit to my OBGYN Office (hard thing), they ordered an ultrasound to take a look on the inside. When I showed up at the hospital for the ultrasound (hard thing), the very kind and amazing staff peeped my family history and decided it would be in my best interest to go ahead and lay it all out. And then smoosh it all down. (Very hard thing)
Honestly, I think it was good that I didn’t know ahead of time and therefore didn’t let myself get worked up and stressed out. I know I can’t be the only mama out there who has a pain and is suddenly convinced that I’m dying. (If I am the only one, don’t tell me. I’d prefer to think of it as a coping mechanism passed down through the millennia – an instinct mothers have to keep themselves alive in order to protect their offspring.) If I had known I was going to have a mammogram that day, I probably would have brought fear as my companion instead of just a decent book.
I’d recommend it, by the way. Bringing a book and leaving the fear at home.
So I did the mammogram even though it was hard and scary. And I’ll do it again when they ask me to. Because now when I’m faced with hard things I have the track record to know that I can do it. I also happen to have 4 very good reasons to take care of myself waiting for me at home.
