312 : Life is Precious

I had a mammogram the other morning.  My second mammogram in 6 months.  This may be surprising to some.  I'm not even 40 yet.  But my aunt died of breast cancer at the tender age of 35, so my doctor suggested I start going for regular mammograms.  I'm sad to say that I don't remember all that much about my aunt.  A few random things here and there like how she used to make delicious grilled cheese sandwiches on wheat bread in an old school panini press. I can still remember exactly what those grilled cheese sandwiches tasted like.  However, I don't remember much about my aunt as a person.  My aunt left behind a husband and two small children: a daughter/my cousin Sara who was my same age and a son/my cousin Matt who was younger.  I was in the first grade when my aunt passed.  And yet, as the years passed, I saw how different both Sara and Matt's lives would've been had their mom been around still. It's not to say that either of them had a bad life.  That is not the case.  Both of them were survivors.  They were tough.  And they always had each other. But it's undeniable that their lives would've been different had their mom not been taken at such a young age.  This was a universal truth that I'd known my whole life.  When my doctor suggested I schedule my first mammogram, I expected it to be routine.  And it was for the most part.  However, I learned that my boobs had a lot of calcifications in them.  These calcifications could be a symptom of certain strands of breast cancer.  Based on the reading from my exam, my doctor could not measure if these were new developments or simply characteristics of my boobs that had always been there.  The only way to find out was to go back in 6 months for a follow up appointment.  And that brought me back to yesterday morning.  I honestly had not thought about my previous mammogram since the I had been there just 6 months ago.  Now that I was back, though, I began to think of all the various scenarios that could play out following this appointment.  I thought about how I would feel should I learn that I actually had breast cancer.  I thought about how this would impact my parents.  Now that I was older, I thought about how my dad must have felt seeing this happen to his sister.  How my grandma must've felt witnessing this with her daughter. Lastly, what my children would do should anything ever happen to me.  The thought made me instantly feel ill.  I couldn't imagine what it must've been like for Sara or Matt to lose their mom at such a young age.  And I couldn't imagine how my aunt felt knowing her days were numbered.  Thinking about your own mortality certainly made one stop and reflect on how precious life was.  It reminded me to slow down.  To say thank you.  To try harder to be better.  To give more.  To be my best self.  I was at my appointment for almost 3 hours before I was released to go home.  My reading had been normal.  They were comfortable with what they saw and I could leave.  I was relieved.  But also reminded once again how lucky I was.  When you lined up 'cancer' next to 'divorce' there really was no comparison.  Both of them sucked the life out of you.  One of them could actually end you and the latter just left you feeling deflated.  I was lucky to be where I was.  Life was precious and it never hurt to stop and acknowledge this once again.  Thank goodness I was where I was.  I would be okay.