Welcome to The Entertaining House. We do hope you'll pour yourself a cup of tea or a glass of wine and linger for a while!

all kidding aside...

My blog is a bit unique... It's a miche-mache of sorts... not fully this or that. It's a little bit decor, a little bit humor, a little bit style, a little bit preppy... it's a little bit about my family... it's a little bit funny... it's all about me. I do not hide anything. It's as WYSIWYG without causing anyone embarrassment. I lay it out there, sometimes honestly to a fault. But it's me. And that's what I always hope to reveal.

I was home this afternoon procrastinating a little. I had gone to Starbucks to pick up coffee, to Trader Joe's and to the Benjamin Moore store to get some color samples. I put away some laundry. Tidied up. Cleaned the bathrooms. And I was procrastinating because I have some big projects to tackle. Then the phone rang so I answered it. It was a number I didn't recognize. The voice on the other end asked for me, then introduced herself as "Jan, from Dr. Molinelli's office." Dr. Molinelli is my obgyn. I had no idea why they were calling. I was not really paying attention as I sat down in front of my computer. As I was opening an email I heard the words mammogram, left breast, abnormality, and was told I had an appointment at Greenwich Hospital at Thursday at 1:30.

I thought for a second, digesting all the words that were ringing in my ears. And said to the nurse on the phone, ah yes, "we were just checking the lump that seemed a bit larger." I have a benign lump in my right breast that we have been monitoring for 10 years. I was sent home after the last mammogram because it seemed fine. And then it hit me, she said left breast. Not the right breast. I have never had issues with that side.

I had my first baseline mammogram when I was 30. I have large, dense and fibrous breasts and my doctor wanted to get a baseline at a young age while I was healthy. It was then they saw the spot on my right breast. I remember the phone call. Much like yesterday's phone call. I remember driving back to Greenwich for an ultrasound. Rebecca was newly born. I was sure I was going to leave her motherless. I drove to Greenwich in tears. The 20 minute drive felt like an eternity. Eventually I was given the all-clear and sent on my way. I've had mammograms almost yearly (with the exception of my pregnancies) since then.

But this time we are talking about the other breast. There has never been an issue with that one. Now I have an abnormality. It could be nothing. I was assured this by the nurse. It could be some overlapping fibrous tissue. I keep trying to tell myself that this is exactly what it is. I'm sure there is a good explanation. And yet, I cannot help but worry. It's normal isn't it? Natural for one's mind to play tricks and imagine the worst case scenarios?

I applaud the breast center and my doctor for scheduling an appointment for me so quickly. The appointment was set up before the phone call. Saves me a step. All I have to do now is show up. I should be thrilled that I have just one day to worry. I think the not knowing is the worst. I am terrible with the unknown. I'll keep myself distracted tomorrow. I have plenty on my plate.

It's the night times that are the toughest. The dark and the quiet are not kind to the fearful minds. I think bad thoughts and I try to banish them. It really is nothing, I tell myself. We're all being cautious... careful... proactive... my stomach is in knots (and the wine hasn't helped!) and I know it shouldn't be. And yet, I cannot help but wonder why the rush?

In the back of my mind I cannot help but think of the two young lives lost these past couple of weeks... friends who have lost friends to breast cancer. And another friend who just learned that a former co-worker is fighting a big fight now... the breast cancer has metastasized into her bones... Again I banish these thoughts. It's nothing. It's nothing. It's nothing. And I look at that word I have just typed. I haven't said it, haven't even dared to think it and there it is all 6 scary letters on the page...

And I really don't want to have a mammogram. Because it sucked. Because it hurt like hell. Because some body parts shouldn't be squished and stretched to ridiculous lengths. (Birthing doesn't count. You get a fab gift after the push and the pain!) I'm being a big baby. I know I am. I asked if I could have a sonogram instead. I was told that I couldn't. The mammogram would be needed, then possibly a sonogram after that.

So there it is. Other than my husband I have told no one but a few close friends via email that do not live near me. I haven't told anyone here yet. I'm not sure I want to speak the words. Writing, for me, has always come more easily. It's cathartic... soothing. So here I am, exposing myself, and my breasts, to hundreds of people I have never met before. But I have chosen this outlet, this venue, for a reason... Many of you have become fast friends... I consider many of you to be good friends... we share laughs and emails and common interests and passions. So I thank you, for reading this and understanding and being there. Being here for me. You see, while I know that I am most likely fine, I can't help but feel a little bit scared.

I'll be there for a while on Thursday. I'll leave a little early... extra time run into the Starbucks on Greenwich Avenue. I'll treat myself to a PSL before-hand to soothe my nerves... I might even treat myself to the whipped cream. I'll be a big girl. I'll suck it up. I'll wear my big girl panties. But I won't wear wet jeans!

amazed....

Can't find the %!@%$# missing rat!