I have jumped another hurdle in preventing the fate that my mother and grandmother had. I had my first mammogram. Physically, it was no big deal. Take off your shirt, plop them down, squash them flat, a short buzz, they get released, repeat on the other side, Buzz - you are done! Emotionally was a whole new matter.

The night before, it really sank in. I am having a mammogram. It might come back showing something. If it does, what will I do next? Is it best to just give up and die? Is this just my fate? Do I have two time bombs ticking on my chest, just waiting for that test that will seal my fate? My husband tried to understand. He tried to comfort. I hardly slept anyway. How can I stop the chain that has started? People die of breast cancer in my family. No one has had it and lived.

The next morning, I go to the clinic to have it done. I brought some books to look at, but I can't remember what was in them. I am alone. I wanted to be. This is my deal. I have to do it alone. The procedure was simple. I was done in half an hour. I held my breath for a week and, thankfully, the hospital wrote to report that all is well. A load was lifted. Now I get to reflect, until the next time, in three years.

I now see it as the first small victory. I went and did something that my grandmother never could have and my mother should have. Mom was a nurse. She helped to heal sick children her whole career. She never took the time to heal herself. Her cancer had spread to a fatty tumor on her back and the lump began to grow, noticeably. It took her eight months to finally have it looked at. She died a year and a half later. It took six more years until I learned the whole story. It was breast cancer not a fatty tumor gone awry. I'll never be sure if Mom ever did a routine mammogram. If she had, she never told anyone, not her sister, or even her daughter.

I'm only 32 and I have already had my baseline. Now it will just be another thing to do, like pap smears, teeth cleaning, and physicals. It's no big deal physically. Emotionally, is another story. Tick, tick, tick…

NO!

Not me! I don't think so! I can't let myself worry about this. History does not need to repeat itself. I will do these screenings no matter how tied up it may make me inside. I will eat well and exercise. I have never nor will I ever put a cigarette to my lips. I have breastfed all of my children. I eat broccoli.

I will do all I can to prevent cancer. I will fight it with all that is in me. With God's graces, whoever (S) He may be, may I live to a ripe old age. I will be part of each of my girls' weddings. I will gladly hold their colicky babies. I will baby-sit for free anytime they need me. I will cry as I watch my grandchildren graduate and marry. I will be old and wrinkled and withered in some nursing home and pass quietly in my sleep with Paul at my side. They will all say that we lived very long, happy lives and my children and grandchildren will never need to say "If only…"