Out of the Blue

I am feeling anxious as I enter the basement of the hospital. My stomach is flipping over and over. As I look for the x-ray department where I will have my mammogram taken, I worry if my message from the Holy Spirit will be true? Of course, I haven't told anyone what He said but I am still wondering what will happen. Is this really happening to me? Can the Holy Spirit be telling me I have breast cancer? Finding the department, the technician takes me back to a dressing room, one that only has a curtain to draw from one partition to another. I am instructed to remove all my clothing from the waist up. The technician shows me how to use the deodorant wipes and put on the gown. She tells me to put my belongings in the locker and to lock it with the supplied key. I am shaking from my feelings of fear that this whole experience might not be real. I have no fear of the medical outcome, only fear that I might be crazy. I undress and use the wipes as directed. The locker is outside the dressing area, so I place all my belongings in it and lock the door. I wish I could shut the door of my anxiety. I go back and sit in the dressing area and wait. Some of the technicians who work here have children that are friends with my girls. I don't know this particular technician who is working with me. She is back and takes me around a corner and into the x-ray room. It is so cold. So much for wanting to feel warm, comfortable and safe. She instructs me how to place my arms and body so they can get the best picture. My nerves combined with the cold make me feel like my whole body is shaking. I stand with the gown hanging off one shoulder while the technician is placing me in front of the machine. She lowers the x-ray paddles to fit my breast on the top of one paddle, making sure my breast fits into the guides marked on it. Then she lowers the other paddle. The tightness of the paddles pressing on my breast are painful. She manually cranks the top paddle down even harder. Oh, my God this is painful. She leaves to go behind the x-ray machine. In a loud voice, she tells me to hold my breath. How do they expect you to hold your breath while they squeeze the life blood out of you? I hold my breath and hear the machine click, click. “You can breathe now,” she says. More x-rays of this breast and then the other breast. Finally, we are done. Thank you, God !!!!! The technician leaves me in the x-ray room. She tells me to wait because she wants to see if the x-rays are good enough before I redress. My stomach is nervous and turning over. I am freezing to death in this thin gown. What will be the result? The technician returns after what seems like forever with an x-ray in hand. She takes the x-ray and puts it in the x-ray light box. She turns on the light and points to a white spot on the x-ray and says, "I believe you have breast cancer.” I will never forget those words. I say to myself, “Oh my God, I can't believe you told me I have breast cancer!” My mind is in awe of God! When does God tell someone they have breast cancer? I am directed back to the dressing room. I start to think, when does a technician tell you the results of an x-ray? I thought only the doctor was to give that information. Isn't that some violation of patient confidentiality? I only know that I am thankful that she told me. I still have no fear of cancer. Why would God tell me I have cancer to then let me die from it? I'm now so excited that God told me about the cancer, not that I am happy I have cancer. Honestly, I don't remember anything the technician told me after that.