A little over a week ago, when I was leaning over the side rails on my daughter's bed, I felt a sharp pain in my chest. I didn't think much of it, but the following days the pain was still there, and when I tried to pinpoint exactly where, I felt it...a lump...on my 'good' side. I tried the 'wait and see' approach for a few days, but the nagging 'what if's' in my brain made me call my doctor and set up an appointment.
Scanxiety.
They quickly scheduled me in for the next day, which was the only appointment available for at least the following week. I went in, ever so early in the morning, and sure enough, she felt it too. Normally, my doctor wouldn't be too concerned about a lump like this, and if found in anyone else she'd just monitor it for a while, but considering my history, we decided to put in a request for diagnostic tests.
Scanxiety.
The hospital called me a few days later with the appointment day, time and instructions. Now I just had to wait to go. I think by this time I wasn't engulfed in fear....but I was rationally and logically planning out in my brain what would happen if what they found was something serious.
Scanxiety.
This morning I got up early and got ready before waking the kids, ate my breakfast, hugged my family, and drove out to the hospital. I checked into the diagnostic department, waited for them to call my name, partially undressed in the small stalls, put on a johnny shirt, and seated myself next to others in another smaller waiting room. We smiled at each other, made small talk, stared at magazines...the notices on the walls...the floors...
My name was called, and I updated my medical history with this particular department. I then had a mammogram of my right side, and also my left armpit...where my sentinel node biopsy had been done during my mastectomy...and I went back to the room and waited.
...and all the while, scanxiety.
Not debilitating, not heart pounding...but present none-the-less. I looked at the faces of the other women waiting in the room - for some, you could tell they were just here for their routine yearly scan, and it was more of an inconvenient hiccup in their daily schedule. A few I could tell it was probably their first time there, mostly because they were young, and the anxiety was in their eyes as they stared off into nothingness and avoided eye contact with others. Still, I wondered if there was anyone else there with scanxiety.
I hadn't really heard the term scanxiety until recently in one of my Facebook support groups, and when I looked it up online, I came across this:
"People often don't realize there is a difference between general anxiety and scanxiety: For those of us with scanxiety, it's not about what might happen, it's about what did happen. For us, it's not so much about worrying, but remembering."
Some have even associated it with PTSD.
Sometimes my anxieties and fears come to the forefront. If I allow myself to dwell on it, my fears of the future could be debilitating and the 'what ifs' could paralyze me, making me unable to move forward because of what I have experienced in the past. I am so thankful that God loves me so much to walk with me during those times. That His grace covers me with His peace so I can sleep...and sleep well leading up to my appointments. That even though I may experience some fear, His presence neutralizes them, so they are no longer my focus. It's impossible to remember the past couple of years of my journey without seeing His hand in it...His faithfulness to me. So, while scanxiety may bring me momentary lapses of fear, remembering how He has walked beside me brings me joy and leads me to trust Him further...regardless of the results of the scans.
While I was reading online about scanxiety, I also ran across this quote:
"Our faith increases when we remember God's faithfulness in the past"
(deeper waters.us)
The end of my story? The next step for me was an ultrasound...and the radiologist couldn't find anything. Not that she couldn't find anything of concern...there was no lump there at all. Not in mammogram, on the ultrasound computer screen, not by physical touch. It was gone. Most likely it was fluid, or scar tissue (from my reduction on that side), or just something that fluctuated with my hormones. Miracles come in all forms.
Exhale. Relief. Joy.
Even before the lump was found, Specific words from a newly-learned Bethel Music worship song have been on repeat in my mind. I'm determined to make a sign for myself with them on it:
So let go my soul and trust in Him,
The waves and wind still know His Name.
(From 'It Is Well')
I guess I wrote all of this to hopefully encourage someone who is finding themselves in the trenches of fear, anxieties, or even a form of scanxiety - Unable to see or move ahead because of the fears of our past - past failures, broken relationships, unmet goals and dreams. You are not alone - remember God's faithfulness, trust Him, and move forward.
Let all that I am praise the Lord; may I never forget the good things he does for me.
Psalm 103:2
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