Year 7 Mammogram in the Books

It’s enough to make me get a little cocky.

A few days ago I had my 7th yearly mammogram since my cancer diagnosis. Let me stress first, I am very aware of how fortunate I am. My appointment was early in the morning, my husband came with me (like he’s been doing, since he didn’t come during my diagnostic mammogram seven years ago) and I got a clean bill of health from the radiologist quite quickly.

I didn’t even feel those few minutes of hovering as I waited for the results. The technician had allowed my hubby into the mammogram room to wait with me, and he and I casually chatted so I didn’t notice the time pass.

Wow, things have changed.

Every year, this feels different, cancer feels further away and I feel less “impending sense of doom” that I had in the first several years.

That’s why something like Kate Middleton’s announcement that she had started chemotherapy for cancer shocked me back to reality.

No matter how good I currently feel about my own situation, there are many reminders that cancer is still a terrible disease that doesn’t care who you are or what you have going on. And it’s still grabbing people and throwing them into treatment.

So much for my cocky attitude.

At times like these, I take a moment to reflect on gratitude for how far I’ve come and, as suggested by my oncologist, how much more life I have in front of me. I don’t think I would have ever felt this appreciation as deeply if I hadn’t gone through the soul-tearing experience that cancer is. Which is not to say that I’m glad I went through it, because I’m not.

Still reminders like Kate’s announcement help counter the selfish little feelings that I sometimes get when I see the free things available to cancer patients now and pout that those weren’t there for me. Yes, those are “human” feelings, but you know what, I can do without them.

Instead, it’s so much more fulfilling to bask in the golden hour sun, taking deep nourishing breaths, and shoo away the everyday concerns that disturb my sleep. At least I have the luxury of being able to busy myself with them, the bothersome little things, and know that I’m still around to have them be a bother.