It's not my time

It's always something.

I believe there are two kinds of post treatment women: those that always think it's something and those that always hope it's nothing.

What is "it" you ask? Well, "it" is a twinge under your arm or a sharp pain under your nipple or a bruising feeling on your sternum.

To be fair both kinds of women hope it's nothing but the former immediately suspects something is wrong while the latter tries to secretly convince herself it's nothing to worry about- while worrying about it anyway.

The question we all eventually face is when to find out if it is something. How long do you wait? When do you call the doctor or mention it to your spouse? If something hurts, even a little, on or near your breast - especially the "bad" side - how long is reasonable to wait for it to go away?

To me it's like walking a tightrope. Too far one way and I'll end up looking like one of "those" patients, the kind that drive their doctors nuts and come off as hypochondriacs to others. That's a big deal to me. It's important to me to be reasonably sane in the eyes of the world and especially my doctor. Crying wolf was strictly prohibited in my mothers house when I was a child.

And, if you lean too far the other way... well I don't want the word metastatic added in front of the word patient when they call my name at the doctors office either. I'd rather be a living drama queen than a dead anything.

So when answering this question, the stakes are high for both kinds of women but especially so for the woman that is more afraid of hypochondria than cancer.

It's not my time: