June 9, 2010
cry
"Mama, you feel better?"
"Yes, Z., I feel better."
Two minutes go by.
"Mama, you feel better?"
"Yes, Z., I'm fine. Mama's fine."
2 minutes go by.
"Mama, you feel better?"
"Z., Mama is fine. I went to the doctor today for a check up. Mama wasn't sick. I just went to make sure everything was ok, and everything was ok. The doctor told Mama that I'm fine."
2 minutes go by.
"Mama, you feel better?"
"Z., did you go to the doctor today?'
"Yes."
"Were you sick?"
"No."
"Right. You weren't sick. You just went to the doctor for a check up. The doctor said that you are fine, that everything's good. Me too. I'm not sick. The doctor said that Mama's fine."
"Me go to doctor today."
"Yes."
"Me good girl. Me no cry."
"You were a very good girl, Z. No crying today. Great job! You were so brave!"
"Me no cry today."
"Right."
"You cry."
K. and I both start laughing.
"You're right Z. You were a brave girl and you didn't cry. Mama did cry."
"Me no cry. You cry."
I don't feel it consciously, but the mammograms freak me out on some deeper level. We were busy today, taking Z. to the GI Guy and then having a lovely lunch and shuffling the kids to the Academy of Natural Sciences Museum so I had no time to fret about my appointment. I ran through the rain, jumped in the car, fought my way to the parking lot, ran through the rain, and got to my appointment. Checked in, got undressed, waited, had the mammograms, was deposited in the second waiting room. Fidgeted around, read old magazines, fidgeted, wrote a zillion FB updates, fidgeted, listened to the loud conversation that the one sad woman wanted everyone to hear.
For a while I went to the People With Issues Mammography Clinic (PWIMC) and one day I showed up and they sent me to the regular clinic across the street. I wasn't happy. They didn't read the films right away at the regular clinic. They just squashed your boobs and sent you home to wait. But eventually I got used to the regular clinic, which is why I was disconcerted the last time when they sent me back to the PWIMC. The PWIMC is way more stressful because everyone there has issues, and there are always a few women there who actively have breast cancer or are waiting for more information after having an irregular mammogram. There was a woman today (with a friend along for comfort) who looked as if she was going to burst into tears at any moment. And the loud woman who had possible tumors in 3 or 4 different body parts.
Today for some reason this all freaked me out. I tried desperately not to listen, tried to immerse myself in a People magazine from last summer, tried to FB, Peggle, txt K., ANYTHING not to think about it all. And so when I got into the car with K. and the kids and E. started whining that we didn't have time to have the promised ice cream sundaes I started crying, hard, and K. said, "But everything was ok, right? They didn't find anything, right?"
Z. didn't cry. Mama did. It was a long day. I'm glad it's over.