65. Telephone: Write about a phone call you recently received.ThinkWritten.com
Most of the phone calls I get are spam bots. But I have been making a lot of phone calls recently.
Mostly to doctor’s offices. The pediatrician, the GP, the dentist.
Yup, that’s right! I’m writing about the gynecologist!
(Don’t worry, there won’t be any gory details.)
Tomorrow, I have my first gynecologist appointment in nearly three years. I know, I know, I shouldn’t have left it that long!
The last time I saw the lady doctor was six months after our Bear was born. When the following year rolled around, life was crazy. We were planning our move from Germany, and I just never got around to it.
And since then? I’ve been putting it off, I’m not going to lie.
My mother died of metastasized breast cancer.
So did my maternal grandmother. Another maternal family member has been diagnosed.
Yeah. I know.
I’m 35. It’s time I at least started getting mammograms. And, as my very best friend (who is a physician) has told me more than once, I should get the genetic test done.
I’m terrified that I will learn to feel afraid of my own body.
In moments of extreme worry, I think of Angelina Jolie and wonder if a doctor is going to recommend I do the same.
So, if I’m honest, I don’t think about it.
I push it away from me and call it “living in the present.” I’ve even been known to go long months without doing a quick self breast exam.
It’s probably not something I should be worrying about. But it is something I should be monitoring.
Which I have not done up until now.
I’m pretty good at living in denial. (It ain’t just a river in Egypt!) But continuing to do so would be irresponsible. I have a family. I need to be proactive and take whatever preventative measures the doctor suggests.
But I’m still scared.
And if I’m honest?
I miss my mother most at these times. Though God knows she’d administer the dope slap and tell me to get to the gynecologist.
I can just hear her. “Jane. Get over it. Go to the doctor.”
Okay, Mom, okay. I’m going.