Anniversary

Today is the first anniversary of my mammogram. I was pretty stony faced. Nine months before my sister had died from breast cancer and I was resentful of the inefficiency at the front desk, the pink positivity messages and images plastered everywhere, and the long wait, despite the fact I had an appointment. I was asked if I wanted to take part in a study comparing detection results between 2D and 3D mammograms. I'd be randomly assigned. Always happy to be part of a medical study I said yes. I got 2D.
It was a shabby shabby building, not a nice environment. The woman doing the mammogram was professional. Serious, but pleasant enough. She made small talk about kids, mine, hers. I get it, but I really didn't want to talk. I just wanted it over and done with, to get the hell out of that dingy place. The mammogram was uncomfortable but no more than that.
As I was getting dressed she said sorry, I just need to do one more. Why? The image is a bit blurred, it's not unusual, the plates might have shifted slightly. Bra off and back I went. After it was all done she wished me good luck. Why? With the teenagers she said. Oh yes, you too.
I left, recovered my mood and congratulated myself on getting it done, how efficient and good I am. Virtuous even...
The boob she re-imaged (blurred image my foot) was the right one with the tumour in it, and three weeks later I knew what the good luck wishes meant.
It's weird how the anniversaries of trauma are unsettling. I mean, time is a manmade construct and it's just another day determined by how long our planet takes to travel round the sun, right? I mentioned it to the psych on Thursday and she said the memories trigger our nervous systems to 'remember' as well, and we physically relive our response. I don't have trauma round that mammogram, but three weeks from now I won't be able to say 'this time last year I was happy' etc. My naive innocence was about to end and as I approach that time I am feeling unsettled by it.
I theory my life is better now. I'm certainly healthier with, as far as I'm aware, a body free of cancer. However in fact, I'm sadder, sorer, mutilated, diminished and more tired. It's difficult to feel it's a victory. I hope the second anniversaries are better than the first ones.
How are your anniversaries?
It was a shabby shabby building, not a nice environment. The woman doing the mammogram was professional. Serious, but pleasant enough. She made small talk about kids, mine, hers. I get it, but I really didn't want to talk. I just wanted it over and done with, to get the hell out of that dingy place. The mammogram was uncomfortable but no more than that.
As I was getting dressed she said sorry, I just need to do one more. Why? The image is a bit blurred, it's not unusual, the plates might have shifted slightly. Bra off and back I went. After it was all done she wished me good luck. Why? With the teenagers she said. Oh yes, you too.
I left, recovered my mood and congratulated myself on getting it done, how efficient and good I am. Virtuous even...
The boob she re-imaged (blurred image my foot) was the right one with the tumour in it, and three weeks later I knew what the good luck wishes meant.
It's weird how the anniversaries of trauma are unsettling. I mean, time is a manmade construct and it's just another day determined by how long our planet takes to travel round the sun, right? I mentioned it to the psych on Thursday and she said the memories trigger our nervous systems to 'remember' as well, and we physically relive our response. I don't have trauma round that mammogram, but three weeks from now I won't be able to say 'this time last year I was happy' etc. My naive innocence was about to end and as I approach that time I am feeling unsettled by it.
I theory my life is better now. I'm certainly healthier with, as far as I'm aware, a body free of cancer. However in fact, I'm sadder, sorer, mutilated, diminished and more tired. It's difficult to feel it's a victory. I hope the second anniversaries are better than the first ones.
How are your anniversaries?
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Comments
At my screening mammogram last time I was shaking too much to notice a lot because I was so scared of it hurting badly like a previous one had. The woman was extremely gentle and reassuring but after taking the plate of the right boob, she asked me if I had any scarring, and then took another. It didn't really register with me as anything wrong until, of course, I got the call back - then I went into a tunnel of white noise. If they hadn't emailed me the appointment details, I would not have known when and where to go.
I can remember sitting in the waiting room watching people go in and out - all anxious on the way in, some coming out smiling and others white-faced with shock.
This time last year I felt well and strong and was planning a road trip for the school holidays. This year...
The scared, confused emotions are still very close to the surface and your brain is going "did they really get it all" Well at least mine was. I went through the drill mammo, U/S MRI, like a zombie, as stone cold as I could get it. Every twitch of the mammographers or radiologist face means something to you. What are they looking at, why is it taking so long, do they know something theyre not saying? You know what I mean.
I think the only one I spoke to that day was the woman doing the MRI who asked me if I realised I had one breast bigger than the other because she had trouble lining me up in the machine. I won't repeat what I said to her.
Then that massive sigh of relief when it's all done and good. Celebration time.
My second year scans were a little early and we all know what happened with that one. A big fat "we have no idea what that thing is, but I don't think we'll poke it at the moment"
The second surgery anniversary (that's the one I count as my two years) was much better, more time has passed and you are stronger and able to control those fears more efficiently. Was I happy, absolutely.
Having been thru Keith's cancer diagnosis, surgery & chemo & anniversaries (8 years ago) I really thought I would handle my own diagnosis better. But not so. Keith was always very fatalistic with his outcome from the cancer as 75% die within 5 years of diagnosis (He would say "if I die, I die") but I wasn't prepared to let him die - and he has had a fulfilled life in the last 8 years, tho currently feeling a bit flat now that he has decided to stop competing!
I'll be having my mammogram & ultrasound in the next week or so & hope that everything is OK - but I won't be as totally trusting of it as I was 12 months ago.
I dont get Mammo's as no boobs I get a u/sound only
I dont think we ever feel no anxiety at this time each year for us....
But I do know I am 6yrs plus out now and I am doing ok I still self check my chest wall and underarms for any irregularities etc.
it is like a few have stated above still raw emotions for you accept this and allow your body and emotions to acknowledge the horrendous year that has gone behind you now.... Knowing that you are now a Warrior who will gain strength step by step as you travel the path in front of you.
Keep a focus on the future what is the plans you have set for yourself and family into the future ....
in Sept 2012 they said aggressive BC and I thought omg I wouldn't see my daughter finish high school This year she has finished 3yr UNI and has another year to go .....
I plan my future to be as good as I want it ... yes we all get bumps in the road but we also know how strong we are ... We fought Bc and Won...
Hugs
SoldierCrab