April 29, 9am. I
realized I was starving, bundle of nerves notwithstanding, and since I was
incredibly early for my appointment, I checked around for restaurants in the
vicinity that served breakfast. My only choice was Waffle House, so I had a
waffle and coffee to kill time. It’s
amazing how much my nerves stopped jumping once I was no longer hungry.
I was probably about half-calm, overall. I had worked hard the past week to not freak
out, and to keep my reactions and thoughts positive. I kept in touch with my
friend B, the breast cancer survivor, and she thought I was being amazingly
calm. It helped that I had been through this back in the mid-80s… that made it
easier to convince myself that this would have a positive outcome, as well. And
if it didn’t? I would deal with that
when I needed to. No sense borrowing trouble, I told myself.
I did call another friend, one night when the doubts were
getting the better of me. We talked
about it, and I told her that 95% of the time, I was ok, and I knew it would
all be ok. But that other 5% was killing me, when it would kick up. She told me
she would believe for the other 5%. :-)
We
talked about what I was expecting on Friday, and I told her that while I knew
they couldn’t know anything for sure until the lab results, I was hoping they
could give me their best guess when we were done, so I knew whether I needed to
worry or not. I figured it would be 3 business days before we got the lab
results back, which meant it might be as late as the following Wed before I
knew anything, because of the weekend. I didn’t want to spend another 5 days
fighting the doubts.
Breathing deeply, I entered the clinic. I had come prepared to wait this time,
remembering to bring in my reading glasses so I wouldn’t have to strain my eyes
to read the paper or magazines in the waiting room. No sooner had I gotten comfortable then they
called my name for the in-take procedure. We went through all the identification process again, verifying
insurance, etc., and I managed to keep the in-take counselor giggling
throughout.
I had made it my personal goal to be as friendly and
cheerful as I could, and to try and make everyone I saw there smile, or even
laugh, if I could. In my mind, I could
still see Mom telling jokes to the anesthesiologist as they wheeled her away
for her bladder surgery. I figured that was a pretty good model to follow. And I figured that the other ladies who were there for exams were nervous too, and if I could get them to chuckle, it might make it more bearable for them, as well.
