Sixteen years ago, I was pregnant for the first time. At my five month check-up the nurse prepared my tummy with slippery jelly and ran the heart-rate monitor up and down, side to side, but we couldn’t hear my baby’s heart. She dashed out of the room in a flurry, and my universe tipped upside down. For a moment in time I felt hollowed out and empty.
A second nurse emerged, picked up the monitor, and within seconds we heard the chug, chug, chug of my precious cargo’s heart. All was right with the world.
In my forty-three years, I have had my life reverse course several times. On a few of those occasions, I received the very worst news, but more often than not, the worst never came.
Four days ago, I had a routine mammogram. On Friday I received a phone call that the radiologist had found an “area of concern” and more test were needed to rule out breast cancer. My universe tipped. My course halted.
For days I have been attempting to convince myself that I was fine, that the chances of serious disease were slim. Yet, despite my positive thinking, my mind wandered back to a vision of myself bald with one boob, on the brink of the worst.
I had my second round of tests this morning, and I do not have breast cancer, no lumps, no bumps, no tumorous growths. I am going to spend the afternoon unpacking my gratitude and thanking each and every one of my lucky stars. I am going to breathe, and smile, and hug my kids. All is right with my world today.