I have to backtrack a little bit because I really want to share the experience that inspired me to start this blog. In December of 2009, I had to have a follow-up mammogram, which led to a needle biopsy being scheduled for January. Though the doctor assured me it was "probably nothing...just a precaution…and easily treatable" if it was something, I knew they wouldn't be looking if cancer wasn't at least a possibility.
Still, I trusted the doctor and could even see the teeny tiny micro-calcifications on the mammogram film, and they didn't look so scary. This allowed me to focus almost all of my anxiety on the procedure itself, and I had plenty of anxiety to work with. If you ever have to go through the procedure, let me assure you right now that it doesn't hurt--honest--but when words like needle, incision, and tissue samples start getting thrown around, I get dizzy and queasy and the recurring mini-panic attacks begin. Reading through the pamphlet the nurse gave me when I made my appointment only made things worse. As thankful as I am for the amazing medical technology we have available today, I couldn't help thinking the procedure sounded like something Dr. No would use to extract information from James Bond…though I guess it wouldn't really work with Mr. Bond, but you get the idea.
Of course, one of the first things I did was email a few close friends to ask them to pray (their prayers and support were certainly "good and perfect gifts," but I'll have to save that for another post). One of those friends shared my concerns and phone number with Gail, a good friend of hers who happened to be a mammogram technician at a doctor's office and also happened to be a recent breast cancer survivor. Gail called me that evening, and we talked for a long time. I was happy to hear her echo the doctor's assurances, and we talked through all the things I was concerned about. She said she would be praying for me, and by the time we ended our call, I had gained a new friend.
The day before my biopsy appointment, someone from the hospital called to tell me the machine that allows patients to lie down during the procedure was out of order so I would have to be sitting upright during the biopsy. This was particularly unappealing to me since I knew that would mean the machine would literally be right in front of my face. The morning of my appointment, I was outwardly calm, but in between silent prayers, I was grasping for an excuse to skip out on the appointment (I knew this was a futile exercise since my husband was driving me to the hospital, but you can't blame a girl for trying). After arriving at the office where my original appointment was scheduled, we were told we'd have to go upstairs since they had to use the dreaded upright machine.
When I arrived at the check-in desk, I was surprised to see Gail standing behind the friendly receptionist. Apparently, she was just dropping off films from the practice where she worked, and was on her way back to the office. She smiled and assured me the procedure would go smoothly, and she would be praying for me. Our encounter lasted 5, maybe 10 seconds, and we exchanged very few words, but I knew she understood. She understood--both professionally and personally--what I was about to experience and could relate to all of my anxious thoughts. As she left, and I readied myself for the procedure, I took great solace in knowing she was likely praying for me at that moment, and that served as a powerful reminder that many others were doing the same. Admittedly, I was still nervous, but was comforted by the certainty that I was not alone. I had just been given a gift from God. It was as if He was saying, "I've got this. I know you're afraid, but I've prepared the way, and I'm here." And though I was encouraged by many other people, I cannot imagine a better person God could have sent to encourage me that morning.
I am happy to report the micro-calcifications were not cancerous. Looking back, I know I'll never know God's purpose in my experience, but I know the Bible tells us we will surely encounter things we'd rather not. However, it also tells us that God loves us as His precious children and is with us--always. God's gift to me that morning was a powerful and timely reminder of that truth.
Still, I trusted the doctor and could even see the teeny tiny micro-calcifications on the mammogram film, and they didn't look so scary. This allowed me to focus almost all of my anxiety on the procedure itself, and I had plenty of anxiety to work with. If you ever have to go through the procedure, let me assure you right now that it doesn't hurt--honest--but when words like needle, incision, and tissue samples start getting thrown around, I get dizzy and queasy and the recurring mini-panic attacks begin. Reading through the pamphlet the nurse gave me when I made my appointment only made things worse. As thankful as I am for the amazing medical technology we have available today, I couldn't help thinking the procedure sounded like something Dr. No would use to extract information from James Bond…though I guess it wouldn't really work with Mr. Bond, but you get the idea.
Of course, one of the first things I did was email a few close friends to ask them to pray (their prayers and support were certainly "good and perfect gifts," but I'll have to save that for another post). One of those friends shared my concerns and phone number with Gail, a good friend of hers who happened to be a mammogram technician at a doctor's office and also happened to be a recent breast cancer survivor. Gail called me that evening, and we talked for a long time. I was happy to hear her echo the doctor's assurances, and we talked through all the things I was concerned about. She said she would be praying for me, and by the time we ended our call, I had gained a new friend.
The day before my biopsy appointment, someone from the hospital called to tell me the machine that allows patients to lie down during the procedure was out of order so I would have to be sitting upright during the biopsy. This was particularly unappealing to me since I knew that would mean the machine would literally be right in front of my face. The morning of my appointment, I was outwardly calm, but in between silent prayers, I was grasping for an excuse to skip out on the appointment (I knew this was a futile exercise since my husband was driving me to the hospital, but you can't blame a girl for trying). After arriving at the office where my original appointment was scheduled, we were told we'd have to go upstairs since they had to use the dreaded upright machine.
When I arrived at the check-in desk, I was surprised to see Gail standing behind the friendly receptionist. Apparently, she was just dropping off films from the practice where she worked, and was on her way back to the office. She smiled and assured me the procedure would go smoothly, and she would be praying for me. Our encounter lasted 5, maybe 10 seconds, and we exchanged very few words, but I knew she understood. She understood--both professionally and personally--what I was about to experience and could relate to all of my anxious thoughts. As she left, and I readied myself for the procedure, I took great solace in knowing she was likely praying for me at that moment, and that served as a powerful reminder that many others were doing the same. Admittedly, I was still nervous, but was comforted by the certainty that I was not alone. I had just been given a gift from God. It was as if He was saying, "I've got this. I know you're afraid, but I've prepared the way, and I'm here." And though I was encouraged by many other people, I cannot imagine a better person God could have sent to encourage me that morning.
I am happy to report the micro-calcifications were not cancerous. Looking back, I know I'll never know God's purpose in my experience, but I know the Bible tells us we will surely encounter things we'd rather not. However, it also tells us that God loves us as His precious children and is with us--always. God's gift to me that morning was a powerful and timely reminder of that truth.
Thank you for sharing Tamra - I've got the same thing going on with a teeny tiny micro-calcification they found - will be going in a few months for my third mammogram in 6 months. Your sharing makes me at ease about what might come next - Thanks ♥ Tami
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