A bit of a fright - is it cancer?

The white gowns did up in the front. Fifteen women sat in silence, some sipping the free tea/coffee and nibbling politely on hospital-grade biscuits, some women reading outdated magazines and feeling self-conscious. I looked around the waiting room at QEII hospital and saw grey hair, a few wrinkles, worried expressions and the odd shy smile. The phone call came on Saturday, three sleepless nights back. The doctor had requested more tests to be done as soon as possible at a different hospital with more substantial testing equipment. I didn't have classes on Tuesday afternoons, so I booked in at the same time as these other ladies who were sharing the waiting room with me today.

"Madge Pinkerton", the nurse called. Madge stood up, adjusted the one-size-fits-all hospital gown and, like an obedient dog with her tail between her legs, followed the nurse who wore a pink shirt with the breast cancer symbol scattered over the fabric. We all looked up from our magazines. They disappeared into a small door at the end of the long hallway. Another nurse appeared. We all looked up, expectantly. This continued for half an hour and then my name was called. I threw my polystyrene cup went into the bin near the hall entrance as the butterflies hit my tummy and I entered her room on the left. She did her best to settle my anxiety, clipping two images into the overhead screen in front of us.
"Just there ... see?" Well, there is was. It looked like a small oval shape that could have the ability to re-shape my whole future. What power in a little dark shape.



After all sorts of tests, ducking in and out of the various test rooms, five of us remained in that original waiting room. One lady came back into the room describing a painful injection into the soft tissue that was supposed to be treated gently and lovingly, and we all cringed. I made another cup of coffee. My group of five took turns with the doctors. Madge had the painful injection too. I had another coffee and waited. Hours passed, we had heard the life history of several of the ladies by the time my name was mentioned by the ultrasound person. Dejected by stories of painful injections into breast tissue, I cringed as she asked me to remove my hospital gown and get ready. Ready? What for? Ohhhh...just a scan. She slopped a thick gell onto my right breast and pressed the instrument until it hurt a bit. Happy that she had found the 'spot', she called in the doctor to confirm her findings.

'It is just a fluid sack,' she told me, nearly as elated as I was. 'You can get dressed and go home. We will keep an eye on this next time, but it looks like a milk duct blocked up with fluid.'


WHAT A DAY!! I had been worried about the 27 telecom towers straight above my work desk. I didn't want to leave this world without apologising for any horrible things I might have done and I had flashes of farewells to loved ones and I didn't want to leave this world full-stop. I have too much living to do, even if it's not as many years as I used to have. I suppose I have been fortunate this time, but it has made me realize how fragile my existence really is.