Mammogram pain

I'm now classified in the older woman category that needs to have a mammogram once a year. The secret I don't want anyone to know is I've been having mammo's for many years since I had a hysterectomy so young and have been on estrogen replacement ever since! So I guess my classification has been older woman for a long time.

Mammos aren't as bad as you hear; sure they manipulate your body into positions it's not supposed to go into. Sure they squish your unmentionables to smithereens. Sure there's the fear of something being wrong. But really, they're not that big of a deal! But today's mammo seemed worse than the others.

I usually go to Alta View. It's close by so I can just run up the street and voila! Squish-a-roni! But last year I had to have some cysts aspirated so now they ask me to go to the new IMC in Murray, otherwise known as the Taj Mahal. That way if there are any concerns or any more cysts that need to be taken care of I'm just a few hallways away from getting it taken care of. The mammography center is in a different building than where I had the cysts removed. Same hospital, just around the corner.

Today I went to the Women's Center. Same Women's Center that Mac was born in. That's where the pain began.

Mike and I have mentioned that just driving by the hospital on the freeway makes our stomachs churn. I've noticed I don't look that direction while going past. Silly I know, but it helps not to look. But today I not only looked at it, I was there.

THE parking lot. Have you noticed that when you go to the same place multiple times (church, store) you kind of park in the same area? We did that 3 years ago. Always went past the parking attendant and turned left. Parked in the second row. That was me and Cali when we first arrived. That was me and Mike over the next few days as we came to be with Josh and Cali. It will never be me again. Today I turned into a different entrance and didn't even go near the parking attendant. (Like it's his fault.)

THE entrance. No way to avoid this. I have to go in. Straight ahead are the elevators. To the left is labor and delivery. I go toward the elevators, just like Cali and I did. I didn't even glance at labor and delivery. No need to. I'm not going there - we didn't go there 2 1/2 years ago either. No, I don't remember which elevator Cali and I went into, but getting off the elevator was the same view as a few years ago; a glassed wall overlooking the entrance. You have to turn right out of the elevators to get anywhere on that floor. I took a deep breath. I almost didn't get out. When I did my eyes darted quickly to the waiting room where the worst day of my life unfurled. It's an average enough waiting room....

I remember Cali mentioning how quiet Mac had been all morning.

I remember mentioning it was probably because he was getting so big and there wasn't a lot of room for him to move.

I remember Cali allowing me to go back into the ultrasound room with her.

I remember the nurse, the silent nurse, as she moved the ultrasound wand back and forth over Cali's stomach.

I remember her leaving the room.

I remember the panic Cali felt. I remember the prayer in my head, the thought that there could NOT be anything wrong. It was his due date! Nothing could go wrong this close to the end.

I remember a doctor coming in the room.

I'll never forget his words, "I'm sorry," being drowned out by Cali wailing "NO!"




I remember suddenly being in a different room. Cali rocking softly on the bed holding her stomach. Me not knowing what to say, what to do, how to act.

I remember calling Josh.

"Josh. Is there someone there with you?"
"Yes. Why?"
"I want to talk to them for a minute."
"Why?"
"Josh, you need to come very quickly to the hospital. There is something wrong."
"Haha. Let me talk to Cali."
"No Josh. You can't talk to her right now. Please just come to the hospital."
"This isn't funny. Why can't I talk to Cali? Are we going to have a baby today?!"
"Josh. Let me talk to whoever is there with you."

Silence.

"Just let me talk to Cali."
"Joshua .... Mac has died. Please get here to the hospital as soon as you can."

More silence.

"OK."



I remember calling Mike. Or at least trying to call Mike. I couldn't get him to answer his phone. I kept trying and trying. When I couldn't get him I called Josh's mom. I figured he would need her there. Don't we always need our mommy's? Maybe it was me that needed her. I love that woman dearly, and am so grateful for the strength I felt from their family.

I tried Mike again. No answer.

I had to call someone. I called my brother. Of course I'm crying while on the phone so when I said, "Mac died," he at first thought I said the cat died and he couldn't figure out why I was so upset. When I finally was able to talk again all he said is, "I will be right there." That's what I needed. Someone there. I was supposed to be holding Cali up, but I was falling myself. How could I possible be strong when the world was tipped upside down and my body was jello?

I tried Mike again. No answer. I must have sighed, or even sworn. Who knows but Cali looked at me and said, very casually like we were discussing what to have for lunch, "Remember dad had a doctors appointment this morning." Ha. No, I didn't remember that, and what an odd thing for Cali to think of when she's got so much going on in her mind, her heart, her body. I called the doctor's office to find out he had just left. I gave him time to get to work, since I knew he wouldn't hear his phone while driving the motorcycle, and when I told him he got right back on the bike and drove 100 mph to get to the hospital.

I think Josh got there first. Then Mike, Diane and then Shaun.

I'll never forget the next few days. The selflessness Cali and Josh showed to others around them as they helped others through their grief while they dealt with their own pain. That beautiful baby who meant so much to so many people who never got the chance to meet him. The sweet acts of kindness and service. The pictures. The joy. The misery. The spirit.... It was so strong around this little family that you were engulfed the minute you walked into the room. So was the pain.



I hate mammograms.