Update!

I just realized that I posted about the little lump I found, but never updated you about it.  Someone asked me about it, and said they had been worrying about me.  Sorry.  I didn't mean to make you worry!  First, if you don't know what I'm talking about, you can read all about it HERE.

I had a mammogram and ultrasound done on the little lump. I showed up at the doc's office, a little nervous, but not too bad since I had done my research and I was PRETTY sure (although not 100% sure) that I had nothing to worry about.   They led me to a changing room and gave me a lovely cape to wear.  Yes a cape.  Not the typical open-in-the-back hospital gown.

Ooooooh.  Gorgeous, isn't it?  Since there were no sleeves, I had to be careful not to move my arms around much, or I would have shown the world everything.  Next we went into the mammogram room. You can't tell from the picture below how nice the room was. They obviously tried to make it feel very homey and comfortable.  A big comfy chair (I was sitting in it when I took the picture), carpet, paintings and plants.  Right in the middle of the room was the dreaded mammogram machine.

The nurse was really nice.  Obviously she's experienced a mammogram, herself, and completely understood.  She explained in minute detail what she was doing and why.  She also kept apologizing about it being uncomfortable.  "I know, I'm sorry.  It's just for a minute."  I lost track of how many pictures she took. Each one required careful placement of my breast, which she had to do - how would I know where to put it? Thank god her hands were warm though.  Then the machine would squash it until it couldn't squash any more (ok, it probably COULD have squashed more, but then it would have HURT), took the picture, and released. There was a top, diagonal, and side view of each one.  Then a couple extras of the area where the lump was.  

I don't know how they can see anything in those pictures.  It just looks like cloudy stuff with some stringy looking stuff in it to me.  On that left picture, can you see the little dot on the left side of the picture? That's supposed to mark the area where I found the lump.  I see nothing.

Next was the ultrasound.  Yippee.  I didn't get any pictures of that part.  If you've ever been pregnant, you know how an ultrasound works.  They squirt some goo on the area, and then move a wand thing around on your skin to get images of what's going on beneath the surface.  First, they mapped out the whole breast in 12 sections (marking each section 1-12 like the face of a clock).  Then they pushed and prodded and moved and jiggled the little lump in an attempt to get a good picture of it.  Remember in my previous blog, I said it was tender to the touch?  Yeah, ouch.  They actually had a hard time getting it on the screen.  Apparently the sound waves from the ultrasound go deep, and the lump is JUST under the surface of the skin.  They had to use a rubbery spacer, which looked to me like a slab of fake fat. But it enabled them to find a clear picture of the lump (as clear as an ultrasound can get, anyway. Still looked like nothing but static to me) and they were able to measure it.  They didn't tell me what they thought it was, but said it was nothing to worry about.  I have a follow up appointment in a few months, for another ultrasound, just to make sure that it's not growing.  I guess if it's growing, then it IS something to worry about.  So I keep checking it.  If it's growing, it's growing slowly because it feels the same to me.

Shaky Hands, Pounding Heart

I am a photographer.  It used to make me nervous to share my photos with the world.  Would people like the way I see things?  Would they appreciate beauty in the same way I do?  When it got a positive response from the majority of people, it became easier.  Then, a while back, in an attempt to gain votes for a contest I had entered it into, I decided to share a black and white nude photo I had done.  I was nervous all over again.  My heart beat fast, knowing that I was exposing a part of me (literally and figuratively ha!) that most people had never seen.  It was something that I don't think most people, who know me, would expect from me.  I got nothing but compliments on that photo.  Someone told me it made them uncomfortable, but they were just being a good friend and giving me crap (I think LOL).

I am also a writer.  I currently maintain 3 blogs.  The one you are reading now, one for my photography, and another one where I share short stories that I have written.  I have had each of these blogs for at least 2 years. My photography blog was a no-brainer.  I had already been sharing my photos and thoughts about them on my facebook page.  It was an easy transition to start blogging.  This blog, the one you are reading right now, made me a little nervous at first.  No one knew that I wrote at all.  So I kind of felt like I was introducing the world to me - not the "me" they knew: quiet, shy, nervous, somewhat anti-social Rachel, who very rarely had much to say.  Facebook opened the door, although just a crack, to me speaking my mind.  But I found that I was severely limited by the 140-character limit they imposed on status updates back then.  How can I properly express what I want to say, when I have only 140 characters to say it?  So I started my blog.  Like I said, I was a little nervous what people would think when they read it, but I was actually MORE nervous that no one at all was reading it.  I still don't know how many people I reach.  I get a few comments from a couple close friends and family.  My audience could be limited to just those 5 people for all I know.

The blog where I share my short stories is the one that makes me most nervous.  I have had it for almost 2 years (although I have only posted a handful of times).  And every single post I publish sets my heart pounding all over again.  I don't think anyone even reads it, as I don't actively share it.  It brings the reader inside my head (a scary place to be!) and they find out where my mind goes when it wanders. I can take one wayward thought, or dream, and turn it into a short story.  Even sharing that blog with my hubby (of almost 16 years!) makes me nervous.  He, of all people, knows me best.  He knows I write.  He knows I write stories.  He even knows that sometimes, my short stories are a bit......shall we say, risque?

I just don't want people to think differently about me.  Or maybe I do, but I don't want them to think negatively about me.  I want people to know there is more to me than what they originally see, but I don't want to be judged.  So why do I publish the writing at all then? I suppose I want to know what people think of the stories, without being biased by knowing ME first.  So, I write the blog but don't share it with anyone, hoping that strangers will happen by and read it.  On the other hand, why do I care so much?  If someone who knows me now doesn't like me after reading what I write, then I guess they are not really someone I need in my life after all.  Because people need to take me (or leave me) as I am - the whole package, not just what they think I am, or what they want me to be.