It’s been a while, hasn’t it? So much has shifted, yet in some ways everything feels the same.
No biopsy after all…. a relief I didn’t realize I was holding my breath for. My husband is walking with a cane now, a small but meaningful victory. There’s a potential job on the horizon, though the long two-hour commute still weighs on me.
Mom just had another birthday. She’s still here, still holding on, though only barely. My brother remains silent, and the absence lingers heavier than words.
I had to restart the 75 Hard Challenge…. discipline slips, but I’m learning to embrace the reset. Even my book is evolving, taking on a new course and a deeper theme, I hadn’t expected.
October is next, and with it, the promise of starting fresh. A reset feels overdue.
I want to see you. because beside you the world loses its edges and time forgets to move. Your presence is a soft, fierce quiet that sends me soaring; your energy charges me and makes me brave. You keep me going. You make me feel alive.
My old job just opened again, the one just 30 minutes from my home. It’s under new management now. Funny enough, the manager running it is the same one I was originally supposed to work with when I first got the position. Then she left, and I ended up with someone else. Someone tough to work for.
Now I’m doing a 2-hour commute every day because of it. It’s been 3 years. But honestly, I’m better off. My current job is fun in its own way, challenging, complicated, and full of opportunities to improve. It keeps me on my toes, and I’ve grown from it.
Still, today I got a couple of messages from my old team: “Please apply. We liked working with you.” And I’ll admit, it made me pause. Because I liked working with them too.
But when I really think about it… I’m better off now…. Right?
It’s Wednesday, and I still don’t have an appointment for my biopsy. I had been told to expect a call by today, but no such luck.
At lunch time, I called Dr. S office. “No, ma’am, we don’t have the referral just yet,” said the kind administrator. “But let me go ahead and set up your chart so that once we do receive the referral, our coordinator can move forward with scheduling.”
I gave her my information, hung up, and immediately called my primary. “Hi, I’m calling about a referral.” “Yes, ma’am, is this regarding the CPAP?” “No, this is about the biopsy.” “Oh yes, I see that right here too. We’ll send the referral to the fax number once again.” “Ok, Great! Thanks,” I said, and hung up.
Later that evening, after work, I tried reaching the specialist’s office again, but by then they had already been closed for an hour according to their answering service.
“I’ll try again tomorrow” I thought.
Thankfully, work has been an incredible distraction. It always has been. This weekend I’m scheduled to work, and for once I’m grateful. Staying busy keeps me from sitting in the silence of the unknown, letting my mind spiral. It’s the long drives, the late nights, the idle moments when the thoughts begin to eat away at you.
And today’s driving thoughts? How our healthcare systems need improvement. We’re still using fax machines to transmit critical referrals? There’s no universal system to manage them? No secure real-time dashboards that can track the process without violating HIPAA? The handoffs between patient, doctor, insurance, imaging, and paperwork form a maze that slows care. In medicine, process improvements aren’t just helpful…..they’re necessary.
During the commute…I tried calling my brother, hopeful he would pick-up so I could inform him of what’s going on, only to discover he had changed his number. Not what I expected.
When I finally got home, a letter from the mammogram center was waiting.
It was the report.
Findings: 1 cm x 0.9 cm x 0.8 cm irregular, echogenic mass with suspicion of malignancy, located at 3 o’clock posterior depth on the left breast. Results labeled “Abnormal/Suspicious,” with a recommendation for an ultrasound-guided core biopsy.
Of course, I had to look it up. The possible causes range from benign to malignant. My hope is still firmly with benign…. and I’m anxious to see the confirming data.
Well, in the words of a Courageous Cowboy: Let ’er buck.
At 4:15 p.m., I went in for a short notice doctor’s office visit. They called me into a small waiting room where the nurse checked my weight and vitals…120/60 blood pressure, 100% oxygen, and a resting heart rate of 52 bpm. “Looks good,” she said with a smile. “Dr. C. will be with you in just a minute,” she added in her soft Southern drawl.
I sat in the cold, refrigerator-like room, taking in its minimalist cleanliness, the bare walls, the neatly organized tools, the set of ear canal testers. It was quiet, almost too quiet, until the sliding door opened and Dr. C stepped inside.
“Hello,” she greeted. “Howdy,” I replied, trying to lighten the mood.
“Now, I’m assuming they’ve already gone over this with you?” she asked gently.
I explained that I had received a call from the physician at the Mammography center. They confirmed it was not a cyst…it was a mass.
“Correct,” she said, glancing at the report. “They want you to get a biopsy, and that will be scheduled at a doctor’s office. I’d recommend N.F. They have two excellent doctors there, and one in particular has an excellent bedside manner.”
She looked at me carefully. “How do you feel about that?”
I told her that a friend had recommended a doctor at the F. , Dr. S., and that I would prefer the referral be sent to her office instead.
She nodded. “That’s fine. Just so you’re aware, if it turns out to be positive, the doctor’s office will take it out.”
“Positive?” I echoed.
“Cancer,” she clarified, hesitating, as though the word itself was heavy.
I had already noticed her body language when she entered, hesitant, with the kind of facial expressions that say I don’t want to have this conversation with my patient. The concern in her posture said the rest.
“Well, there’s still a chance it could be nothing, correct?” I asked.
“Yes, of course,” she assured me.
She reminded me that she had read biopsy reports before that turned out benign.
I told her, I’d remain optimistic that this too would amount to nothing.
I checked out, walked to my car, and drove home. But when I stepped out of the garage and made the short walk to my front door, the weight of it all finally hit me. In that hollow stretch of silence, I couldn’t help but shed a few tears.
Because writing is therapeutic, I return here to share my thoughts. This past weekend, I found myself lost in reflection. A recurring health issue has resurfaced, leaving me in limbo as I wait for results and the feedback that will shape what comes next. A biopsy is on the horizon, and my mind wrestles with the uncertainty—telling me there’s a 50/50 chance that everything will be fine, that nothing serious is wrong. Until I know, I sit in the tension of hope and worry, learning to wait with patience and strength.
Journaling was Recommended 