Excerpted from The Single Gal's Guide to Rheumatoid Arthritis (June 2009)

Over the last three years, I've had the pleasure of experiencing a range of different medical tests and procedures, including X-rays, MRI's, bone density scans, echocardiograms, peripheral vision tests, and more.  If I've learned anything through my adventures in Doctorland, it's that you pretty much can't go see a doctor without having some kind of test ordered. Between having RA, a heart murmur and migraines, I thought I had most of them covered, but a year ago, I got to scratch another superfun procedure off the list: a breast ultrasound.

One morning in May, I noticed a denser-than-usual mass in my right breast.  It didn't feel like a lump exactly, and truth be told, I didn't feel worried about it, but given that I take freaky drugs that alter my immune system, I thought I should do the responsible, vigilant thing and bring it to the attention of my midwife.  At the appointment, she squunched and squished my breast around to try and see what was what.  Though she didn't feel a 'lump' per se, she did notice that this area felt particularly dense and, well, lump-y.  She wasn't alarmed at all, but she wanted me to go ahead and get an ultrasound to see what it turned up. 

I calmly made my appointment for the ultrasound, but in all seriousness, I didn't feel the least bit nervous, worried or scared- just responsible and cautious. I didn't mention I was going to have this done to most of my friends.  The one I did happen to mention it to volunteered to come with me just in case.  I agreed, even though I really didn't think it would be necessary.  Then, with the appointment a few weeks away, I mostly forgot about it.

Time passed, and the appointment arrived. I practiced some yoga and then headed off to the address I'd written down on a post-it note.  As I walked down W. 15th street, I suddenly saw a huge sign appear with the words "COMPREHENSIVE CANCER CENTER' written on it.  I gulped and realized this is where I was headed. 

I don't know why I thought I was going to go to some small, nondescript little clinic, but that is what I had pictured in my head the whole time. I had not pictured this giant, bustling, serious-looking center with the word CANCER looming ominously above it.  I stopped short of entering the huge sliding glass doors to wait for my friend to get there.  I suddenly felt intimidated and didn't want to go through those doors alone into a CANCER center. I was grateful my friend had insisted on coming with me.

Standing there watching others come and go, most much older than me, I couldn't help but feel uncomfortable and aware that I didn't want to be associated with anything that was happening 'in there.'  It all felt strange, and I wondered how the hell I had ended up standing outside a cancer center on such a nice, summer day.  In a flash, I felt myself get really angry at the mere thought of having cancer.  I mean, if I got cancer on top of having stupid rheumatoid arthritis, all before the age of 31, I was going to be seriously angry at humanity, the gods and anyone else who got in my way.  It suddenly felt very unfair; this couldn't be happening to me. But isn't that how I felt when I was waiting for my diagnosis of RA?