Rachal’s Mamma and the Mammogram

My schedule was packed. My palm pilot said so. My mind was dancing with details. I was cleaning up the morning dishes, wiping down the counters and asking my oldest son, Ben to please take out the garbage when I realized, my schedule runneth over.

“I have a 10:00 mammogram at Cape Coral Hospital today.” I called out to noone in particular. “And I have promised to take Rachal with me to the office.” I threw out this comment in hopes that my husband would come to the rescue and offer to take Rachal during my 10:00 mammogram.

“I’m off to an 11:30 meeting, I have to leave the house by 11:00” My husband mumbled under his breath.

“Hummmmmm.” I said out loud hoping that the disappointment would be conveyed. “I will just have to take her with me then.”

When I can devote my skills full time to Rachal and her special needs my day goes great. But when I need to focus on something, even for a few moments that truly takes my concentration off her, I get nervous that I will not be able to handle it. Rachal was doable – Rachal and the Mammogram were not.

“Let’s go Rachal, Mommy has a doctor’s appointment and I need your help to get me through it.”

I had just helped her get dressed in a darling pink flowered skirt and white sleeveless blouse. She looked adorable with a new short haircut that appeared to make her brown eyes even bigger.

We pulled up to the hospital and I took a deep long breathe before jumping out of the van. I have not had a mammogram in three years. I was not expecting this to be rough I just did not want Rachal to have a break down anytime during the test. I have to believe that every woman imagines herself sneezing her breast off during the critical squeeze time of the test. But the thought of lunging after Rachal was not a pleasant thought either. Would she handle all of this with understanding?

Anything could set her off, the amount of music coming through the speakers, the way another child screams or the way we have to move from one room to another. These examples and 100’s of more could have her rocking slowly in a corner and biting her arm. See Rachal has Autistic tendencies that leave her not understanding the world around her.

We move into the Breast Center with easy. I am signing to Rachal that I need her help and that she looks beautiful this morning. She is smiling and talking in circles
about her summer school program. We use both sign language and verbal cues as forms of communication to help us understand one another. We are asked to wait in a room filled with magazines and chairs. Many other women join us. I watch Rachal’s reaction as she looks at the ladies. A television is on in front of us. A woman cell phone keeps ringing a melody from the Beatles. You say yes, I say no, you say why and I say I don’t know. Hold it together, Rachal please just hold it together I think to myself.

A beautiful woman with shoulder length brown hair walks into the room and calls out “Lisa Cronin Miller”.

Rachal stands up before I realize it and say’s, “Okay mamma the doctors is weady for you, wet’s go.”

I sign “Okay,” to Rachal and we follow the woman down the hall.

We enter another smaller waiting room and she tells me she will be with me in a moment. I am in awe that we have gotten this far and Rachal is still smiling and with me. Nothing seems to be even close to setting her behavioral issues off. I take a deep breath.

“Okay.” The technician says, “Let’s go.”

We enter a small dark room with a table lamp on in the corner. I sign to Rachal to please stand by the door and do not move.

“Do you really want her in here? The technician asks.

It is at this moment I always smile. I smile for many reasons. One is to deliver the news in a way that puts the person at ease. Another is that I know Rachal is watching my every move and my every word. I smile because it’s easier than crying.

“My daughter has special needs,” I slowly being to share. “She really cannot be left alone around the corner in that waiting room without me.”

The woman’s eyes gazes towards Rachal’s. I see the look of kindness take shape.

“No problem, she can stand over here with me.” She says gesturing towards the back of the machine that will squeeze me into a pancake.

As the technician helps me into the vise grip, my mind wonders towards Rachal’s first mammogram. How old will she before she has her first one? How will we ever explain what is happening to her? Will she actually stand there and allow this contraption to immobilize her even for a moment?

“Do not move and hold your breath.” I am told.

I freeze all movement.

Rachal who has not taken her eyes off of me says, “Oh mamma dat is tight, dat gotta hurt, don’t you move mamma.”

The woman and I make eye contact and we begin to giggle.

“Okay Rachal I am not moving, I actually cannot move.” I tell her.

“Dat good mamma, you good listener, I wove you mamma.” She yells out.

“You have a beautiful daughter”, the woman gently says.

“I am blessed to have her.” I say. And I truly believe that. Rachal may not be the easiest young adult to care for but she has me looking at life in such precious ways. I realize I do not have to worry abut her first mammogram or any other test she might have to endure in the future. I will be given the strength and ability to deal with it at that time.

“You’re all finished.” The woman says. “You and your daughter are free to go.”

“Excellent!” I say. “Rachal we did it! You helped me and we are finished.”

“Mamma I did it, I did it mamma, can we get a soda now mamma I wove soda.” Rachal asks over and over again.

“Yes, Rachal let’s go get you a soda.”

We walk out of the hospital hand in hand.