I’m Okay..But Damn.

The last few weeks have been a whirlwind.

I haven’t been writing much, but I’ve been cooking, baking, soaking up the sunshine… and dealing with everything life throws at you.

There have been a lot of doctor’s appointments. A lot that made me angry. A lot that genuinely scared me.

Breast cancer runs in my family, so I’ve always tried to stay ahead of it—self exams, genetic testing, extended breastfeeding… all the things you’re “supposed” to do. My doctor decided it was time to start mammograms early. I’m 32.

The first scan didn’t look right. They told me that’s normal sometimes. Then came the MRI. Then the ultrasound. And then the words you never expect to hear at 32 with four kids:

“We can’t rule out cancer yet.”

Cancer.

I don’t even have to explain what that does to your brain.

But here’s the part that sticks with me just as much as the fear—the system around it.

I waited four weeks for the MRI and Ultrasound after the Mammogram. Was told they’d call me after to schedule an MRI with contrast because they still weren’t sure. No follow-up call. Just a message days later reminding me to schedule it. Another two-week wait.

Two weeks of anxiety. Two weeks of panic. Two weeks of imagining worst-case scenarios.

And the whole time, being questioned. Dismissed. Asked if I was sure the contrast would make me sick.

It did. Immediate nausea and dizziness at the scan. Nurses worried.

Today, I finally had that scan. Thankfully it was clear.

And I am so, so grateful.

But I can’t stop thinking about the women who don’t get that call. The ones still waiting. The ones sitting in that same fear, stuck between appointments that take weeks to happen.

Because that part? That’s broken.

Women’s healthcare is broken.

We wait. We’re dismissed. We’re told to lose weight, to exercise more, to “manage” things better. We’re made to feel dramatic for knowing our own bodies… The same ones they tell us to self check.

In addition, I’ve been dealing with c-section incision pain for two years. Two years of explaining. Two years of being brushed off. Two years of going from it’s normal, to it’s been a long time since your c-section, to it’s from breastfeeding. Only now, finally, are things starting to be taken seriously.

And even then—my surgery got canceled after three months of waiting. A procedure that could reduce cancer risk. A procedure that might finally give answers.

I advocate for myself. I follow the rules. I do everything “right.”

And it still took this much.

So yeah—I’m relieved today. I’m thankful. I’m okay.

But I’m also angry.

Because it shouldn’t be this hard to be heard.

It shouldn’t take fear, persistence, and exhaustion just to get care.

And it definitely shouldn’t take two years of pain for someone to finally listen.

Maybe this is just a rant.

Or maybe it’s the start of saying it out loud a little more.

Because we deserve better than this.

All of us do.