The Breast Spa {part 1}

If us women paid them as much attention as the guys do then maybe breast cancer would be a thing of the past!

Photo artwork by classic perfection

“Ms. Rae?”

“Yes,” I answered standing up.

“Right this way please,” she pointed through the doorway and down the hall.

“Can my husband come too?” I hoped.

“No, not right now. Maybe later. We’ll see what the doctor has to say.”

“Okay,” I shrugged and walked through the door alone.

She led me to a dressing room just like the kind they have at Macys filled with multiple stalls and doors with sliding chrome locks.

“Take everything off from the waste up and put this on,” she instructed handing me a thick cotton robe with the words Breast Center embroidered in pink across the front pocket.

–

When I cam out of the dressing room she wasn’t there. Do I go find her? Is she waiting for me somewhere else? I glanced around the corner in the hallway and didn’t see anyone. So instead I sat down and started reading People magazine. There was another lady waiting, but she didn’t look up and I just knew it was better to sit quietly without talking. My husband was only a few steps away behind the closed waiting room door, but I felt so alone.

“Okay, Ms. Rae, come with me.”

Tucking my lonliness safely away within the pages of People, I put the magazine back on the table and shuffled down the hall in my robe, jeans, and red tennies.

“How does your husband do with blood and needles?” she asked.

“Yeah, not so good. I guess it’s better if he waits outside.” Oh my gosh. Am I seriously giving up the comfort of my husband voluntarily? I really wanted to feel the touch of his fingers around my hand. Something to hold onto. Eyes to look into that would show me that I’m safe. That I’m okay. But, I gave it up. I let it go. And I ignored my need for his presence to spare him a few moments with a needle and possibly some blood. I pushed it all down to make it easier for him.

–

I climbed up the stairs and made myself as comfortable as possible on the cushioned table.

“Is music okay? she asked.

“Sure,” I replied and she flipped on some classical tunes.

“I’m going to go get the doctor now. I’ll be right back,” she said dimming the lights before leaving me alone.

And as soon as she left, it hit me: the vulnerability. I felt so small on this huge table and even the ultrasound machines were bigger than me. I glanced around the room looking for something to make me feel better. Tears began to swell. I wanted to run and go get my husband. But, the door opened and there they were. I quickly shoved the tears back into the deepest, darkest part of my soul and looked at the doctor.

“Hi, Ms. Rae,” he said. “Are you ready for your procedure?”

“Yes,” I lied with a smile.