What is it about that yearly exam that makes one think of death as an imminent event in one’s life? True, most of us don’t know when we’re going to die, but there are certain reminders of that fragile state known as “living” and one of them, at least for me, is my annual boob mashing.
All year long I’m busy living my daily life, taking my health for granted and the illusion that I’ll have it forever. Working at a doctor’s office, I talk to patients who have all sorts of health concerns, and it always freaks me out when cancer is involved. Cancer knows no age limits, no general health indicators, no gender or race preference. I have lost family and friends to cancer and there’s always a story from a friend or acquaintance about some unlikely, for lack of a better word, victim, who has just been diagnosed with this scourge. At work, there have been patients whose cases have made it difficult for me to maintain composure and all I can think is “Fuck cancer!”
So every year I get checked. And every year, while waiting for the results, I think to myself, “What if this time…?” So every time I get the all clear, I feel as if I’ve been given a reprieve from the inevitable.
The point of this post? Just wondering if I’m the only one who goes through this. Am I?