All Is Grace

yep. that’s right. i said “tatas” in my post title.

i know. it maybe pushed your buttons a little.

ok. i’m fine with that.

you know why?

yesterday pushed my buttons.

like…whoa.

let’s back up.

last October, i turned 40. 40 brings on its own set of challenges, not the least of which includes new tests. more blood tests. more family history questions.

a mammogram.

lucky for me, my yearly physical didn’t come until six months after my birthday…so in April, i saw my physician’s assistant, and had all my bloodwork…and scheduled my appointment for yesterday.

yay.

to say that i have dreaded this day for the past twenty years–since my mom’s first mammogram–is an understatement. to say i hated the idea of the appointment, that i wished i could skip it, that i wanted to cancel it from the time i scheduled it till the moment i showed up at the hospital…yeah. GROSS understatement. and you know why?

not because my dad’s mom had cancer in her 50’s and this could literally save. my. life. not because i was worried about the expense or the time out of my already crammed-full schedule. not because i don’t love the idea of being in a hospital, or feared the outcome of the test itself (though those things are true)….no. none of those things.

i was truly fearful of the pain. discomfort i couldn’t actually anticipate. i feared everything i have heard OTHER WOMEN describe. you know what i’m talking about: the comedians who say that in order to prepare for a mammogram, you should go out to the garage, take off your shirt and bra, invite a few strangers to watch, lay on the cold cement floor, and have someone drive over your breast with your car tire. they joke about the cold squish. the exposure to perfect strangers. the “just hold your breath, it will be over soon.” i am not a person who is afraid of pain, fearful of hard things. i lift heavy weights every other day, and do crazy cardio on the “other” days. i parent three teenagers (well, one almost-teenager). i homeschool. cook 3 meals, on average, for every dinner. babysit someone else’s infant. i birthed three children of my own…all pitocin induced. none less than 6 hour labors, and none dilated more than 8cm. i am married to a man with Cystic Fibrosis (hey, it’s awareness month, did you know??). my ex stopped paying child support and will likely go to jail for a long time next week.

i do hard things.

but i was seriously worried about that mammogram. i didn’t sleep Thursday night. Wednesday either. and i want to remind you that this fear and anxiety was a result of OTHER WOMEN’S HORROR STORIES! i walked into the changing room/waiting room sweating. heart pounding. hands shaking. this test that could save my life…and i wanted to run out of the room before it even began.

seriously, i have no problem baring my body for medical professionals. i have no issues even having students examine me and see how far dilated/effaced i am.over and over and OVER again, through three deliveries! this wasn’t about pride or being uncomfortable with the situation. this was straight-up, stupid fear.

and, Ladies, i’m here to tell you: it. was. nothing.

nothing.

NOTHING.

if you’re having a mammogram, you’re about 40 years old. you’ve probably had sex. had babies. had broken bones. had stitches. dental procedures. slammed your finger in a door. fallen out of bed.

all of those things hurt. (yes, even sex sometimes!)

none of those things will save your life.

no, none of those things will squeeze your breast between two pieces of plastic for 12 seconds in two directions while you hold your breath. but seriously.

12 seconds.

just. stop.

stop telling women how awful this is. stop telling your daughters that it hurts and it’s so uncomfortable and it’s humiliating while you’re standing there going through it. stop making women who might be afraid worry. STOP.

i mean it.

it was not the most comfortable thing i’ve ever done, no. but the mammogram itself took 5 minutes. maybe 6. total. the woman who did it was kind. compassionate. apologetic. i actually thanked her profusely at the end of the darn thing because, jeez, i had made it such a big deal, and she was fantastic. i came home and apologized to my husband and children for being so worked up. i told my girlfriends that i had totally overreacted. my dear friend told me that she thought she wasn’t necessarily qualified to tell people that it’s not a big deal because she’s “small” and didn’t want to give me (who is “larger”) the wrong impression, just in case it was because she was smaller. i am not the most sensitive person i know, but…girls. STOP. stop being scared. stop being worried. stop spreading the lie that this is something we should fear.

get your mammogram. don’t put it off. stop scaring your girlfriends by telling them how awful it is when you’re done.

JUST. STOP.

in 2013, 39,620 women were expected to die of breast cancer. maybe you’re not one of the women who is on 2014’s projected list. but maybe you will know someone who could be diagnosed early…this year, even…and your encouraging words will keep her free of fear. maybe your words will keep your daughter from being afraid of her first exam when she turns 40. maybe the fact that you go every year and don’t fuss one single bit about it will make her confident and courageous and optimistic and you will save. her. life.

sign me up for saving lives. i’m on it.

bring on next year’s mammogram.

compared to everything else i did yesterday, that was the easiest part.

get your mammogram. don’t put it off. get. it. done.

you will do harder, more uncomfortable things every single day of your life.

do it. and tell someone else to do it too.