Sometimes, Distractions Help During Breast Cancer

I had my yearly mammogram on Wednesday. Mammograms had become extra important to me because I’d had two bouts of breast cancer, the first in 2011 and the second in 2016. I had all my treatments (mastectomy, chemotherapy and radiation) at Cleveland Clinic Akron General Medical Center.

It was Friday, two days after my screening, and I got an email that my results were in my online medical chart. This triggered some anxiety in me. What if the cancer had returned? I was experiencing classic scanxiety.

My husband and I were on a date in Cleveland. We were having drinks at a stylish restaurant in Playhouse Square. My husband was sipping a pear vodka martini, and I was having some Diet Coke and a brownie sundae. I needed the caffeine to stay awake; in an hour, we were scheduled to see Peter Pan, the musical. Sitting at the bar, I tried to log into my online chart, but don’t you know it, I couldn’t remember my password. There was no getting into the chart until I returned home and logged into my PC.

I was glad I had some activity to distract me. In 45 minutes, I was going to see the touring company of a Broadway show.

I’d seen Peter Pan years ago (1979) in New York City when Sandy Duncan played Peter. At that time, I knew the woman who played Wendy. I’d been in a production of Gypsy with her in the 70s. Her name was Marsha Kramer, and she had played Dainty June, while I had played Baby June. That production was in Canal Fulton, Ohio.

At that time, Marsha was an unknown actress doing summer stock, but in a few years, she’d become a Broadway performer. Because of Marsha, Peter Pan had extra meaning to me. (Marsha has since passed on. The world lost a beautiful soul when it lost Marsha.)

I knew I could last three hours without knowing my test results; I had a marvelous way to kill time.

The show was thrilling. I enjoyed every minute of the dancing and singing. I even forgot my breast cancer predicament. Peter Pan, Wendy and the little boys were flying around on the stage. How could I worry? The production was not just a distraction; it was the perfect distraction.

We were sitting in the eighth row. I could see all the actors’ facial expressions. And I got sprinkled with fairy dust once or twice.

When the play was over, we walked a few blocks to our car, which was parked in an outdoor lot. It was cold – in the 30s. I was glad to get in the car and turn on the heat.

The drive home was pensive. My major worry returned; what if the cancer had come back? Well, I said to myself, if that happened, I would just deal with it. If that happened, I wouldn’t necessarily be a goner. Would I?

Finally, we pulled into our driveway. I got out of the car and marched into the house, up to our office.

I logged onto my online medical chart and slowly brought up the results. I read the following:

“There is no mammographic evidence of malignancy in either breast. Routine mammogram screening is recommended. Annual mammogram will be due in one year.”

I heaved a sigh of relief. I’d avoided cancer’s return yet again. I guessed it just wasn’t my time to go.

I got up and looked in the mirror. “You’re a lucky duck,” I said to myself. I could see “fairy dust” (cheap dime-store glitter) in my hair. Peter Pan had tossed it out into the audience. I found a brush and brushed the silver sparkles out. It fell onto the carpet.

Magic had not saved me; good medical care at Cleveland Clinic Akron General had. I hoped my good fortune would continue and that year after year I’d be blessed to receive the same mammogram results in my chart that I had received that night.

I went to bed knowing that cancer’s return was one thing I didn’t have to worry about.

At least for that night.

Thank goodness for distraction.

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