As I awaited my appointment to read my CT scan today, I scoured the reports myself in my patient portal. Thanks to the Cures Act, signed into law in 2022 (I believe), I now have immediate access to lots of stuff I don’t understand and can’t interpret. 🤦🏻‍♀️

It was about 2:30 today when I reset my password and finally got in my portal. My eyes went to FINDINGS. All caps, bold text—etched in my brain. Muscle memory of past traumas lead me straight there. The report noted a 9mm nodule in my left lung lobe. Stating that it was a concerning finding. Cue paralyzing wave of heat tracing my body from head to toe. 

I arrived early to my appointment. And as I sat waiting for the doctor, my mom came into the room. Strong women I’ve heard, have a way of hanging together. I filled out my intake self-assessment form, and rated my anxiety a little higher than usual. I got a visit from the social worker. So I asked her for a list of therapists in Salina that I could talk to about this unhealthy cycle I get into before every scan, waiting for life-changing results. Positive or negative—life-changing. Physically making myself ill.

The doctor walked in, we made small talk about Taylor and Travis, and football, as we usually do. He knew what I wanted to know.

“You’re fine. You’re fine. You’re fine.”

The radiologist was very thorough. My misunderstanding happened because my last and only other CT scan (that he was comparing my new one to) was in 2018. This lung nodule was there, from past lung issues that hadn’t resolved. The same nodule that MDAnderson found and biopsied and confirmed scarring from previous infection. Nothing new. No evidence of disease.

Thank you for your prayers as well. They were all felt, and I found peace. Love y’all. 💕