Okay, so I watch a lot of YouTube videos. I just have to lay that out there. Not just any videos, I’m not a YouTube junkie afterall. But, I do watch videos. When I have questions about my epilepsy, I typically turn to Mayo, Seizing Life, The Epilepsy Foundation, or the Cleveland Clinic. When I’m wondering about how to improve my running I go to Coach Parry or maybe The Ageless Runner. If I want to do some yoga and just cool down, I go to Yoga with Adrienne. If I need some music to run with I head to a mix on YouTube Music. I’m even using it at work, playing some Raffi or Pete Seeger or maybe even some powwow music or if its nap time for the kids it’s calming music.

This week was a little different. I found myself listening to a lot of Yerbba, UW Carbone Cancer Center, along with a bit of Breast Cancer Rehab and a few other sites.

It all began on Friday, June 5th when I went in for my annual mammogram. When I was done the technician told me it might be a few days before the results would be available. I was surprised to get a message in my email before I got home. I opened it and went to MyChart where I saw my mammogram results. A quick look and some defining terms told me that the results weren’t what I wanted. It was already nearing the end of the work day and I was heading to a potluck so I decided I’d wait until Monday to schedule the recommended followup.

I questioned whether I still wanted to go to the potluck or to just hideout in my apartment with my dog and a feel-good movie. I was struck down by the words “spiculated mass” and found myself in tears. This was year that I was supposed to pass my mother’s death date cancer-free. I was only a month away. This couldn’t be cancer, but everywhere I searched suggested that a “spiculated mass” found in a mammogram was likely to be malignant. All I could do was call out to my mother’s spirit to tell her that I love, but I’m not going to be ready to see her again for many years to come.

I decided I needed to be with others in that moment. So, dried my tears and headed to the bus stop. Waiting for the bus, I got a call from Nurse Lisa wanting to schedule a diagnostic mammogram and ultrasound. It’s a challenge talking on the phone and trying to find a phone-based bus ticket at the same time, especially when feeling some serious emotional chaos. Add to that the fact that it was the rudest bus driver in all of Madison Metro that was driving that day and I tipped over the edge. A usually calm and reasonably polite person, I have to admit that I responded to the driver’s rudeness with a rather loud “F____ you!” that poor Nurse Lisa got to hear as she was still waiting on the line for me and then began to cry. Lisa and I scheduled my follow up for Thursday, June 11th. I did apologize to the driver when I got off the bus. He was still a jerk even accepting the apology, but at least I had the push I needed to cry and look within myself.

It gave me the chance to see that in that moment a 2026 cancer diagnosis didn’t scare me. A 1978 diagnosis, a 1984 death, and being without my mom terrified me and broke my heart all over again.

Being with friends, good food, and conversation that had nothing to do with my fears of the moment was a good choice. I calmed and felt safe in the moment. I’d try doing some internet research over the next few days, but there really wasn’t much for me to do other than learn what I might expect from my upcoming appointment.

Thursday was that appointment, actually several appointments. I am eternally grateful to my dear friend, Juscha, who gave me a ride to the clinic and joined me for the discussion with Dr. Propeck, the physician who talked us through the results of the mammogram and ultrasound and did the biopsy that we were able to schedule for that same day.

The wonders of Google and YouTube videos gave me a pretty good idea of what to expect so on some level I wasn’t surprised when Dr. Propeck shared the news, but on another level I was completely in another universe. The whole rest of the day I felt in a fog. Was it real? Was it true? Did she really say cancer or was it all some weird alternate reality dream? I won’t know all the details until my biopsy results come back later this week and an appointment is scheduled with my new care team. For now, I am reminding myself that this is 2026 and not 1978 and I’m not my mom. I have every intention of celebrating my 100th birthday with a great party and excellent music in 2071 and this is not going to mess with those plans. It is instead, merely a gift to help me know my mom, myself, and I don’t know what else. Time will tell.