Exhausted

My stomach is still a little off today. I’m not quite sure why. Yesterday, I receive the all clear on the follow up to my mammogram. I thought I’d be feeling fine today, but I feel exhausted. Maybe all the stress has caught up.

Yesterday was interesting. I went into the office to register. The process went smoothly. I was a bit shocked at the cost of the procedure, but then again, medical costs always floor me. The odd part began when I walked into the “breast center”; it was the waiting room for the procedures, different than the registration waiting room. This room was almost full. All the women were older than me by a good 10 years. My first thought was, “I don’t belong here.” There were several men in the waiting room…all but one next to a woman. There was only one seat in the room and it was next to the lone man. I assumed he belonged to a woman who was already in the procedure room. I felt a pang of jealousy for the women who had their significant others there.

The gloom hung over the room like a dark cloud. Each woman looked a combination of sad and scared. The men looked terrified and helpless. They actually seemed more like they wanted to be comforted than they were providing comfort for their wives. It was as if they were boat anchors rather than sails. My jealousy faded. My thought was, “I had several girl friends offer to accompany me. And, if I had chosen, they would have been much better company than these men.” I don’t blame the men for their feelings. Probably, they are the one who always fixes everything that goes wrong. But in this situation, they were helpless. Their wives’ toys were broken and they couldn’t fix them. All they could do was wait to find out the prognosis for their loved one. I’m sure each was going through their own version of hell.

I thought I might suffocate in that waiting room. I turned to my phone and started playing…texting my friends who volunteered to join me but instead were waiting vigil, looking at FB and emails…just about anything to pass the time. I didn’t want to look (more accurately feel) like every other person in that waiting room.

Once called back, I was treated with the utmost respect and compassion. I was amazed at how kind and loving my technician was to me. She explained everything, did the procedure and then explained how we would move forward from there. She must know how crippling the fear of the unknown can be. And, how just a simple explanation of what was going to happen can set someone’s mind at ease. I don’t recall her name. I wish I did. She was my angel yesterday.

When she gave me the news, I wanted to cry. Of course, my pride and compassion for all those other women sitting there, waiting to find out their fate, prevented me. I made it outside the office and then let the tears flow. Everything was okay.

I thought everything would be “all better” today. But I’m still emotional and exhausted. I guess this whole scenario took its toll on me. Probably couple that with the sadness that all is done with YBBK and I’m emotionally drained. I think I could sleep for days. Perhaps I will.