24 Years After Breast Cancer, I Still Hold My Breath at Mammogram Time

Twenty-four years after breast cancer, I still get nervous when it is time for my annual mammogram.

You would think after all these years it would get easier.

In some ways, it has. Cancer is no longer the first thing I think about when I wake up in the morning. I have built a life beyond treatment. I work. I exercise. I dream. I make plans for my future. I have watched my body grow stronger. I have celebrated year after year of survivorship.

But then mammogram day comes around.

And suddenly, part of me is 39 years old again.

There is something about walking through those doors that awakens a memory my body apparently hasn’t forgotten. I can tell myself that I have been doing this for 24 years. I can remind myself of every good mammogram that came before this one. I can use all the rational thinking in the world.

And still, there is anxiety.

The Anxiety That Comes With Survivorship

Today was my mammogram.

Before I went, I kept breakfast light because I was nervous. I knew that eating differently wouldn’t change the results, of course. But anxiety isn’t always logical. Sometimes you just do the little things that make you feel like you have some control while you wait for an answer that is completely out of your hands.

And then came the waiting.

Cancer survivors know this kind of waiting.

You go about your day, but somewhere in the background is the question you don’t really want to say out loud:

What if?

What if this is the year something shows up?

What if that chapter I thought was behind me suddenly opens again?

Twenty-four years sounds like an enormous amount of time, and it is. I am profoundly grateful for every one of those years.

But survivorship doesn’t necessarily mean forgetting.

Sometimes it means learning how to live a full life while knowing exactly how quickly life can change.

Four Words That Still Mean Everything

Then my results appeared.

I opened them and read:

“BI-RADS Category 2: Benign finding — No evidence of cancer.”

No evidence of cancer.

I don’t know if those words will ever become ordinary to me.

I hope they don’t.

Because today I didn’t just read a medical result.

I felt relief wash over me.

I felt gratitude.

I thought about the 39-year-old woman who heard the words breast cancer 24 years ago and had no idea what was ahead of her. She didn’t know about all the fear, treatments, changes and difficult days that were coming.

But she also didn’t know about this day.

She didn’t know that 24 years later, she would be sitting here reading the words:

No evidence of cancer.

She didn’t know how much living was still waiting for her.

Another Year, Another Reason to Celebrate

There are certain milestones in survivorship that other people may never completely understand. An annual mammogram can look like another appointment on a calendar.

For me, it isn’t.

It is a reminder of where I’ve been.

It is a moment when an old fear briefly knocks on the door.

And today, it became another opportunity to whisper:

Thank you.

Thank you for another clear mammogram.

Thank you for another year.

Thank you for another chance to use this body, strengthen it, serve others with it, laugh in it, dream in it and live fully in it.

Twenty-four years later, I may still hold my breath when mammogram day arrives.

But today, I get to exhale.

No evidence of cancer.

Four words.

And after 24 years, they still mean everything.

Time to celebrate me and life.

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