Four Dreadful Words

If only doctors looked so friendly. Thankfully mine does.

I hate going to the doctor. Really. I do. I feel like every time I go, there's 50 bajillion people there all coughing and hacking around me. I only go to the doctor for my yearly exams and when I feel I'm deathly sick so by going when I'm (seemingly) perfectly healthy while running risk of getting sick pisses me off. Take your mask and cover your face. I don't have time to get sick. I don't care how much sick leave I have. But I digress!

Recently, it was that time of the year for me to get my yearly lady check up as I call it. This is another process I hate but a pretty necessary evil. First thing first, the breast exam. Pretty painless. She checks one boob. Cool. She checks the other boob. Wait. She's taking a while. Why is she adjusting herself and going over the same spot over and over again. And then she says it. Four fucking words I don't wanna h
ear, "I feel something here!" Bitch. You sound like you just struck gold in my boob and it's not what I want to hear. A lump. A big lump. Right there. I can feel my entire world coming down. What am I supposed to do? What does this lump mean? Breast cancer runs in my family. Do I have it? Is this cancer? WHAT THE FUCK?! I can feel my tears coming but I try to stop them. I'm successful for once. She tells me it's probably nothing. Just a cyst. What's my diet like? I kinda idly answer because I'm too busy being paranoid. She tells me I need to go see a specialist to get an ultrasound. Just to check. As soon as they bring me my "go home" papers, I call the specialist and set my appointment for the next day.

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I get back in the car where my boyfriend is sitting on the phone. I literally stare at him until he gets off. He asks how the appointment went. I tell him they found a lump. He kinda just stares at me and asks what is it? Benign? Cancerous? A cyst? I say I dunno. The doctor didn't know. I have to see a specialist. He tells me it's gonna be ok. It's nothing. Here comes the tears. All the tears. I tell him that he doesn't understand that those are words a woman never wants to hear. I'm 23. His best friend recently passed away from cancer last year. I can't deal with this. And deep down, I feel like he can't either.

Check, check, CHECK!

Here comes Friday. It's already a busy day. I have to go to the house to meet with ADT. Fuck this guy, I'm gonna meet him there then leave for my appointment. It's way more important. Time passes, I'm sitting in the radiologist in the weird shirt thing. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting. On my phone. My sister is freaking out cause I told her yesterday. She's ready to rush to me at any given moment. My dad told me to pray. I was almost too afraid to because I didn't want to risk God forsaking me. The tech calls me back. Nerves. Even more nerves. Off with the shirt thing. Laying down now. Arm behind the head. Lather lube on my boob. And then she checks. Checks some more. She finds one. It's big. Or at least looks big. Keeps checking. Oh look. Another one! It's smaller. Looks like a pebble. Waiting. I'm expecting the worst. I hold my breast. She tells me they're not cancerous. I have nothing to worry about. Breast rocks. I call them boob rocks. She says they're basically little abnormalities that managed to form in there. Fibrocystic breasts. They're common in African American women. They're nothing to worry about. I want to cry. I leave. I'm happy. My boyfriend gives me my anniversary gift (a very pretty new ring but no, I'm not engaged). It's shiny. I'm happier.

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I think this might be what my boob looks like on the inside. I dunno.

So, what's the point of me writing it this way? Because getting your boobs (and other lady parts) checked is SUPER important. It's something I know I shouldn't slack on but this one thing was enough to scare me absolutely straight. What's alarming is that I felt the bigger lump one day but I kinda STUPIDLY brushed it off. Mainly because my appointment was coming up. Also because I am an idiot. I was lucky because whatever is floating in my boob right now is not cancer.

If you're slacking on your lady doctor appointments, get checked. The subject of cancer hits very close to home for me. As black women, we often neglect our health A LOT. We're always busy focusing on others that we could have a ticking time like cancer, a bad heart, expanding waist line, whatever. We take ourselves for granted and we need to make strides to do better. Beyond this one scare, I still definitely need to take better care of myself. My diet is STILL terrible. I don't care if I'm a size 2 or 22 but I know my insides aren't healthy. I need to be more active. I need to be more mindful of what I'm stuffing in my mouth. I'm trying. Failing. But I'm going to get back up and try again.

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We own our health to ourselves before anyone else so take care of yourself <3

*insert my nifty almost signature block thing I haven't thought of yet*

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Terra