Untitled on Purpose

My first mammogram on a Thursday, results: "Please come back; there's an area of concern."

My second mammogram, the following Thursday, results: "We are suggesting a biopsy."

Biopsy, the following Wednesday. Currently awaiting results. 

***

I sat by the fountains in the park before the biopsy, praying for God to make me brave.

I checked in at the breast care center and immediately went to the restroom and cried. I fanned my face like it was going to be the least bit effective. It wasn't. 

I choked back tears as the nurse was talking through how the procedure would work. I kept my eyes moving about as I tried to listen. Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry.

I laid down on the table. I drew in several nervous breaths as they raised the table into the air so the physician could take a sample from below. I felt like a car in a garage.

They told me to face the wall so I wouldn't see anything, that it would help me calm. I turned my head and saw my reflection in the glass of a picture on the wall. Laying on my stomach, hand to my face, I watched myself breathe. I didn't want to watch this, either. This woman in the glass looked scared.

Tears started tumbling down my cheeks. One, two, eight, twenty...I tried not to make a sound. The nurses had no idea I was crying. A few breaths that fell somewhere in between shuddering and smothered escaped. The woman in the glass looked lost. Her eyes were filled with uneasiness. In fact, the woman in the glass looked more like a girl of 8, maybe 10. The uncertainty in her eyes made me want to look away, but to where? Thirty, forty-two, fifty...the tears kept streaming, silently hitting my pillow.

"Name?" 

Get it together, Rebecca. You can't sound like you're crying. 

"Rebecca." My voice sounded like a child's: soft, scared. I didn't recognize it.

"Date of birth?"

Pause. Tears. "M-m-march..." 

"What did you say?"

A nurse came around the bed to be able to hear me. All I could do was try pointlessly to hold back the deluge as I choked out my birth date, and which breast they were checking. She patted my hair and gave me two tissues. 

"You're going to be fine," she said. I nodded. 

"Are you ready?" asked the physician. I nodded again, somewhat untruthfully.

"You'll feel a sting." I looked at the nurse standing next to me. Michele was her name. One L.

"Will you hold my hand?" the scared little girl in the glass asked. 

"Absolutely," she said, not hesitating. She grabbed my hand and squeezed tight. She didn't let go until the procedure was over. I am glad to have had her as a nurse. Michele, if you read this, thank you. 

***

I'm still not brave, at least not in myself. But I know He was with me. For two days before the biopsy, the verse kept popping into my social media, "I believe, but help my unbelief."(Mark 9:24) I know I am healed; I also don't want to allow any fear or unbelief to visit. 

I am also thankful that God, in His kindness, sent me a verse that first Sunday following mammogram number one. While sitting on our porch, watching it rain and being thankful, I heard in my mind's ear, "Matthew. 4. 24." Since I don't have the whole of the Bible memorized, I grabbed my phone and opened the Bible app. 

"News about him spread as far as Syria, and people soon began bringing to him all who were sick. And whatever their sickness or disease, or if they were demon possessed or epileptic or paralyzed—he healed them all." Matthew 4:24 (NLT)

He healed them all. 

I believe that the Lord sent me peace before the storm, for the storm. 

I am waiting for results right now, and while my human side may at times be a little girl who has cried a few times, I am thankful that my spirit man knows all is well. God has not changed. 

God is, and all is well. 

-Rebecca