waking up after a very, very long sleep

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.