news-record.com

When I made the appointment for my annual mammogram, it happened to coincide with National Breast Cancer Awareness Month. I didn't expect anything to be wrong, but life can change in an instant. The American Cancer Society says one out of eight women develop breast cancer. Not the best of odds.

On my appointment day this week, I woke up feeling anxious. I arrived at the doctor's office where the waiting room was filled with other anxious women.

One by one our names were called. We were sent to dressing rooms where we shed clothes and donned hospital gowns. Hospital gowns make me jittery.

Making matters worse, the next room -- the one where you await the mammogram -- was empty. Being alone when you're nervous intensifies anxiety. I needed somebody to talk to.

Finally, another woman clad in a hospital gown entered the room. I decided to chat. "Have you ever had a mammogram?" I asked. It was a dumb question.

"Goodness yes," she laughed. "I've had breast cancer." I was talking to a veteran of mammograms, hospitals and doctors.

And that's how I met Martha Smith: wife, mother, grandmother, retired media specialist at Rankin Elementary School. As we waited alone in the room, we chatted and I listened hard. She was spunky, brave, inspiring. I took mental notes because hearing how others confront bad news prepares the rest of us, just in case.

Martha was diagnosed with breast cancer in October 2003. If her mammogram was OK, she would be cancer-free for six years.

That first year had been rough. Radiation, chemotherapy, surgery. But she kept on working by scheduling chemo on Fridays. That gave her time to recover over the weekend before Mondays. Besides chemo and radiation, Martha had other therapies: a positive attitude, humor, religious faith.

Did it bother her to talk about breast cancer? "No," she replied. "I think we sisters should band together, and talking about my experience might help others. I think God is using me as a vessel."

She's thinking of starting a support group for cancer survivors at Genesis Baptist Church where she's an active member. But she doesn't believe in pushing people to talk about cancer unless they're comfortable with it.

She does believe in urging women, including her two grown daughters, to have mammograms. Martha is African American and knows that black women have a higher death rate from breast cancer largely because it's detected too late.

She had never avoided mammograms. The one in 2003 helped save her life. "My cancer was the aggressive kind, but it was caught in the early stage," she said.

Suddenly, a nurse appeared and called my name. Conversation stopped. I nervously left the room. The mammogram only takes a few minutes.

When I returned to the waiting room, Martha had gone for her mammogram. So I sat alone, awaiting my test results. Time ticked slowly, and minutes seemed like hours. What was wrong?

Then my name was called. As I approached the radiologist, I searched his face for clues. He smiled. "You're fine," he said. I practically clicked my heels with joy.

I got dressed and returned to the waiting room to look for Martha. She sat there alone, clad in a hospital gown, awaiting her results.

I decided to wait with her. Until that morning, we had been total strangers, but a shared fear bonds people.

"I don't want you to wait alone," I said, sitting down, knowing her stakes were high. "I'm not really alone," she replied. She said God was always with her.

We chatted and waited. Then the radiologist appeared. I left the room for them to talk privately. But as I rounded the corner, I heard him say, "You're fine! Go home and celebrate!"

I quickly returned to the room where Martha was laughing and hugging the doctor.

I hugged her, too. Six years, cancer-free!

It had been a hard morning. But I learned lots from my new friend who'd survived breast cancer with faith and courage. As we walked out together, the receptionist asked about an appointment for 2010. Martha and I will meet on the same date next year.

Rosemary Roberts writes a column on alternate Fridays. E-mail: Rmroberts@triad.rr.com