Saturday, May 16, 2009


I had my annual mammogram the day that I had to go to IF clinic and formally be informed that my latest cycle was a big fat failure.

But. Blame it on the Year of IUIs, I was okay with the BFN. Not okay, but... what's the word for when you get to that mental/emotional/spiritual place where you're so used to failure that hope feels weird and vaguely painful?

That. I didn't feel okay, but comfortable with my familiar misery.

And then I had my mammogram.

And I completely lost it.

I sobbed, uncontrollably, in the hallway before I walked in. I was unable to speak to the receptionist when I finally walked in. I was unable to speak, period. Luckily (?) the office had the impersonal mode of operation -- sign in here, fill out this there, sit down wherever and wait silently while they get to you. I sat in a corner, as far away from everyone as I could be. And I sniffled and I struggled to get myself together and avoided eye contact with anyone and everyone.

Now you might think I was crying because I got my BFN. You may think that I was crying because I had to check off the box stating that I was not pregnant. You might think that, but you'd be wrong.

I was crying because I was thinking of Mama. I was missing Mama. Who died of breast cancer.

Could you just get a mammogram already? Please? Pretty please?

I flunked the mammogram (I always do) and the sonogram was a giggle, as always. I have 16 cysts in my breasts. (The technician was impressed; how about you?) Four of them are "worthy of being monitored" and I have to go back in 6 months.

Please? Get the mammogram, okay?