Several weeks ago I called and scheduled today's appointment for my yearly mammogram.
Last week sometime, I started feeling edgy about the appointment. I was surprised at the feeling; breast cancer has never been one of the diseases I worry about and I usually breeze through the exam with nothing but the inevitable discomfort that comes from having a fleshy body part pressed flat in a vise for 30 seconds or so.
Today as I drove to the appointment, I examined my edginess. A dear friend was diagnosed with breast cancer several months ago and has since undergone a double mastectomy and chemotherapy. I love this woman and have spent more time than usual lately thinking about breast cancer, so I thought that might be the reason for my ripple of fear.
Suddenly, though, I got it.
I have something to lose. I am living a fascinating, brilliant, challenging, rewarding, exciting life. In all my 56 years, I cannot recall ever being this happy and fulfilled. Much of my life has been spent in self imposed misery, most of it, in fact. No wonder I approached mammograms without a second thought. I approached most things without a second thought. I had (or thought I had) little to lose.
Another in a long string of miracles. Finally, I have something to lose.