Even If
I’ve always written about what’s heavy on my heart. But I don’t always share it publicly. And now, after giving this careful thought, I do want to share in the hope that my experience might help someone else feel less alone.
For the family and friends who may read this, I am okay. I’ll go into the details below, but no cliffhangers, this all turns out okay. Truly.
What I want to talk about is the solitude of waiting 15 minutes for diagnostic mammogram results at 35 years old. Alone in a deserted hallway. Even if you have family come with you, they can’t wait in the hallway outside the exam rooms so you’re on your own.
I think I may have felt every emotion possible during that time. Prayers were a constant loop. They had been long before the appointment started, but certainly throughout the scans and definitely as I sat there waiting. The results would be completely out of my control. There was nothing I could do to change the outcome. And there was nothing I could do to prepare for the exam. No notes. No studying. The results weren’t something I could influence. And that was terrifying.
I think what felt most cruel was noticing a change in November 2025 and going through Thanksgiving, Christmas, my birthday, and New Years wondering if I was going to be ok. Wondering what it meant. Wondering if I should be more concerned. I didn’t want to panic, but I didn’t want to assume everything was fine. I didn’t even tell anyone until after Thanksgiving because I didn’t want to worry them over the holiday season. By early December, I had to at least share with my sister and my mom after the initial appointment because the anxiety was threatening to take over. And I was starting to wonder if this would be my last normal holiday.
Everyone says don’t Google symptoms and we all do it anyway. And if you don’t think Instagram is collecting data from your Google search, I can confirm after Googling a few questions, the algorithm targeted me with posts and reels about breast cancer and cancer in females in their 30s. Real nice.
With a family history of breast cancer, I believed the worst. And with my own history of a benign fibroadenoma I discovered years ago, it felt like I couldn’t get so lucky twice.
So, I sat and waited. Putting my trust in God. Which didn’t surprise me. What surprised me was that I wasn’t asking God to make the results clear; I was asking God to get me through whatever came next. Whatever the results would be.
A few days before the mammogram I saw a quote that was something like this— “Switch ‘what if’ with ‘even if’ and see how your trust in God evolves”. So I kept repeating that to myself. Even if. Even if.
Minutes passed by and the tech came back and said I was all set and to step into the changing room to go over the results. We stepped in and closed the door.
She said I was all set. So my mind fixated on that. When it’s bad news you’re not all set and you’re shuffled off to the meeting room to talk about next steps. I’d sat in that hallway before and watched other women be guided away with tears in their eyes.
I focused back on what was being said. I was all set. The mammogram was clear. No sign of cancer. No change in the benign fibroadenoma. All good news. I could go home and follow up with my primary care doctor for any other questions or concerns.
I said thank you and repeated back the results to be sure. Once I had confirmation that I heard correctly, I changed and gathered my things to head home.
I should have felt relieved and I was definitely thankful, but my mind was stuck trying to understand just how quickly everything could change. Just how temporary everything can feel. When confronted with the very real possibility of life-changing news, you realize all the things that matter most and all the things that really are insignificant.
I hesitated to share because some part of me felt like I didn’t have a right to be upset. Or scared. The results were good. So what did it matter how those 15 minutes felt? But it did matter because to get to the good results, I still had to live through the longest and most helpless 15 minutes of my life. If this was God’s way of testing my trust in Him, it was certainly effective.
And because it turned out to be “nothing” it didn’t seem like I needed to share, but I did. And I do. Because no matter the outcome, if hearing about someone else’s experience helps even one other person to not feel alone, then there’s value in sharing.
Checkups and screenings are important, even when we’re dreading them. And following up on any concerns or changes in your body can be the key to early detection.
I have a few more follow ups to get answers, but knowing what it’s not is as important as finding out what it is.
For anyone else going through a difficult medical journey, you’re not alone. Lean on your family and friends. Tell them when you’re comfortable, but don’t wait too long. Isolating and overthinking only makes a scary situation worse for yourself. You’re not a burden for sharing what you’re going through.
A quote to end on, “Shared joy is double joy; shared sorrow is half sorrow.” John B. Hayes
