Cassandra winced as she stepped inside yet another small, uncomfortably white-walled room. She’d never had a mammogram, despite not knowing her family history. The idea of squishing a part of her body into a pancake had never seemed appealing. If you’d done it, maybe you wouldn’t be here now.

A white gown was draped over the exam table, just as the nurse had said it would be before she’d opened the door. Peeling off her shirt, Cassandra noticed the copious amount of sweat she’d produced. Fear does that. Unclipping her bra next, she tossed it onto the bed beside the shirt and stared at the gown. She’d only need it for a few moments before they began, probably so she wouldn’t feel uncomfortable while someone talked to her, but it felt daunting to slip the hospital gown on.

Cancer. The word banged through her mind like a pinball during a game, and she forced herself to bend over and grab the damn gown. Her mind was blank, a wash of absolutely every thought, as she pushed her arms through and tugged it down.

The knock on the door came as she was sitting down on the edge of the bed.

“Hello, Cassandra?” The woman entered, her face glued to Cassandra’s chart. “My name is Rachel, and I’ll be the nurse performing the mammogram. This is Hannah—a radiology tech who will be with us today.” Hannah gave her a smile and stepped up to a computer.

She nodded, wishing she could sink into the bed and simply vanish into it.

“Is this your first mammogram?” Rachel sat on the stool in front of the bed and lowered the clipboard.

“Yes.”

“All right then. I want you to be comfortable during this—there’s nothing to be afraid of. The machine isn’t as bad as people tell you.”

For the first time, Cassandra saw the device behind the nurse. It looked like nothing more than one of the machines the eye doctor used. When she looked longer, it became apparent the place where an eye patient would rest their chin was actually where her breast would go. A strange plastic piece, triangular in shape, sat at the top portion of the machine - the part that would be doing the squishing she presumed.

“I want to assure you, while there may be some pressure and discomfort, mammograms aren’t painful. Your breasts won’t be flattened into pancakes when the arm lifts and you should feel no discomfort after the arm raises.”

Rachel stared at her as if she expected Cassandra to respond, so she nodded.

“The way this works is you’re going to come sit on the stool right in front of the machine. You’ll place your forehead against that piece there–” she pointed at the rectangular piece as expected. “And one at a time we’ll image your breasts. The arm will lower slowly, and the pressure will increase. The entire process will take less than a minute per side.”

That was the first piece of decent news she’d heard all day, and it meant absolutely nothing because both doctors assured her they were not wrong in their diagnosis and this was merely a backup test.

“Hannah is here because this isn’t a standard mammogram, but a diagnostic one.”

“I know why I’m here, you don’t have to worry about alarming me.” The words nearly stuck in her throat but somehow came out sounding far calmer than she felt.

“I’m sorry then. Please know we’ll get this done quickly. Hannah will make certain I have all the imagery we need to do this only once. Are you ready?”

She was never less ready for anything in her entire life—which was ironic since her whole life essentially hinged on her getting this done.

“No, but there’s not much else to do except getting it done.”

“Exactly.” Rachel must have missed the sardonic tone in Cassandra’s voice because she sounded rather chipper to get started. “If you’ll step over here and lift the gown, we’ll get started.

Swallowing hard, Cassandra rose and noticed her legs trembled. It took three rocky steps to reach the machine, and when she sat, she nearly missed the little black stool. A rush of coolness pressed against her stomach as she lifted the gown and Cassandra realized she had to gawkily tuck the clothing under her chin.

“All right then, I’m going to touch you now.”

Cassandra nodded and waited. Doctors poked and prodded all the time in diagnostic tests. Each out of the country work trip checkup required a full medical check—a mammogram was technically less invasive. Still, her breath caught in her throat

Rachel handled Cassandra’s breast delicately, and the warmth of the plastic plate helped take away some discomfort. Holding her breath, Cassandra waited for the next instruction.

“Please lean forward a bit, the machine will lift the gown, don’t worry about that.”

Feeling silly, she lifted her head and sure enough, the cloth draped over the machine. Leaning forward, she pressed her head to the plastic and almost pulled back, shocked that it was colder than room temperature.

“Okay, I need you to breathe normally for me. I’m going to get started.”

A soft whirring noise began when Rachel touched something on the computer. Suddenly, seeing the procedure was too much to handle, and she closed her eyes. Forcing herself to take calming breaths was proving harder than she’d expected, one way or another this test would change her life.

The pressure began while she counted in her mind to distract herself. It started mildly, no more than a gentle handshake. Quickly, it grew heftier, until it felt as if a ten-pound weight sat on her chest. While it didn’t hurt, it felt more than a little unpleasant, like getting fingers stuck in a car door.

As quickly as the intensity began, it was gone. That was not nearly as terrible as I imagined. Anger surfaced. Why didn’t you do this before? Still fuming, she didn’t notice who spoke.

“Got them.”

She opened her eyes when Rachel touched her arm lightly. The nurse effortlessly switched which of her breasts was on the machine’s surface.

All of the avoidance because you’d heard this was a terrible process. You might have caught this sooner. You might not have gone and spent three months in a foreign country letting the cancer progress further!

She gasped. Her missions often brought about sad thoughts regarding the kids, but she’d never been bitter about her career prior.

“Sorry, was that painful? It matters.”

Embarrassment colored her face, and Cassandra shook her head. “I was thinking about something, sorry. No pain.”

Another few seconds passed, and the pressure stopped for the second time. She was simply a woman in an uncomfortable position, feeling guilty for what she’d just thought.

“You’re all set. The results have been rushed, and the Doctor Dresdell will have them in time for your appointment in the morning. Please be aware we might have to do more. Mammograms are not one and done when you’re facing cancer.”

“I understand.” The words were hollow. Cassandra did understand, but she was too upset with herself to display any other emotion. The gown fell back into place as she leaned back from the machine.

“I wanted to say you’re not alone in this fight. I’m three years in remission. You’re in good hands.” Rachel put her hand on Cassandra’s shoulder.

It was interesting; the way someone shared such a personal detail. It had been less than an hour since she’d finished picking up the pieces of herself off the bathroom floor and saying the words out loud was not an option. Telling a random stranger was inconceivable. She had made the decision almost immediately that she would tell only Diana—and only because she needed something to change at work.

Why me? A tear slipped down her cheek as the awkwardness melted into regret. Why now? I’ve got so much left to do? Another tear. Buck up. Nothing’s even started, you can’t crawl under a blanket. This is temporary, and in no time you’ll be able to tell people you’re in remission too.

“Okay then, if you don’t have any questions, we’ll leave to get dressed, and you can stop by the first window on your way out to pick up paperwork.”

She nodded. It would seem all she had done today was string a few words together, cry and nod. “Thank you.”

Blowing out a breath, she waited until the women closed the door before standing up. So many errands loomed in her near future. None of which were going to happen Cassandra only wanted to go home, curl up and pretend this day was all in her imagination.