Life is often defined by those events that take a person down a different path. A marriage, the birth of a child, buying a new home or car are all moments of great joy. Leaving friends behind when moving, the death of a friend or family member evokes great sadness. Surviving hurricanes, tornados, wrecks and abuse ... these are personally traumatic. But what about the trauma that strikes the minute someone says, "This may be cancer,"?

"I have to leave school a little early Wednesday. Can you get a sub for me?"

"Problems?"

"No, just my yearly well-woman checkup."

"Played during summer vacation and forgot to get it done, huh?"

"Yep."

After twenty years of working together, how well the school secretary knew Tracy.

Nothing could be colder than sitting on an exam table in a tiny clinic room, bare feet dangling off the end, white sheet wrapped around Tracy's naked body in an attempt to stay warm while air conditioning sent shivers down her back. Ms. Comal, the physician's assistant, breezed into the room. How many years have we done this exact procedure? Tracy wondered. They re-established the fact that she exercised, could stand to lose a few pounds, still didn't smoke and enjoyed a glass of wine on occasion. The PA helped her lie back on the table, feet on the metal extension. Eventually, they were propped up in stirrups.

Tracy's mind intentionally wandered to her last period class at school, still in session for another fifteen minutes. Eighth graders can be such a challenge when the regular teacher is not in the room. Hope the sub survived.

Ms. Comal took a Pap smear and palpated Tracy's abdomen and uterus. Finally, the PA uncovered her breasts and began the circular exam with fingers sensitive to any abnormality. Tracy's wandering mind came back to reality when she realized Ms. Comal still manipulated her right breast.

"I can feel a lump."

Her words sent Tracy into a mental meltdown. The word "cancer" came to mind with the power of a sledgehammer. Cancer had taken her dad and aunt.

"Did you notice this?" The PA spoke with a faraway look in her gaze as if she were in the midst of the troubled skin.

Tracy swallowed hard and attempted to speak, but her mouth dried out with fear. "To be honest, no. I sort of forgot to do my exam." She wanted to hit her head against the wall; the most important thing a woman could do to save her own life and she "sort of forgot" to do it.

"Let's get a mammogram and set up an appointment with Dr. Kit."

Faster than Tracy could believe but slower than she wanted, the test and appointment were set.