Betty had the irritating habit of always changing the subject.  It drove her husband crazy.  Every time he tried talking about her shopping habits, or about the bills, she would go off raving about something else.  He wanted to talk to her about the drawer full of unopened bills he had just found, but he just couldn’t pin her down.  Typical.  He’d have to clean up her mess again!

Betty was a woman with a lot on her mind.  She had to take care of the kids, the house, the laundry, the school projects, and had to drive to soccer and gymnastics practices, and piano lessons, etc, etc, etc.  She kept the family calendar and arranged the social schedule.  She didn’t have time to talk to her husband about his obnoxious obsession with the family finances.  When he did, it seemed natural to just ignore it and to talk about the things that were really important.  Men!

If her day wasn’t already busy enough, she had just gotten a call from her doctor’s office.  The nurse wanted her to make an appointment to talk to the doctor about her mammogram report.  They wouldn’t give her the results over the phone.  The nurse said it was important.  Recalling her aunt’s experience with breast cancer, Betty had a few moments of anxiety, but then decided she didn’t really have time for that.  She would talk to the doctor, get the report, and be done with it.

The doctor walked into the examination room with a serious look on his face.  He reviewed the recent events with her.  “You came in last week for your routine yearly examination, and casually mentioned you had a breast lump.  You then told me it had been present for about 6 months, and that it was growing.”  Betty opened her purse, looking for her calendar.  She couldn’t remember if soccer started at 3 or 3:30.  The doctor proceeded.  “Betty, your mammogram is very abnormal.  There is a definite mass in the breast with all the appearance of cancer.  There is virtually no doubt.  You will need a biopsy to confirm it, and then we will have to talk about what to do about this.”

Betty responded with a burst of anger.  “I don’t have TIME to talk to you about this right now, doctor.  In case you don’t know it, I have 3 kids, 4 if you count my husband, a house, and a dog to take care of.  I feel fine.  Mammograms aren’t always right.  My car needs gas and I need to buy groceries for dinner!”  She quickly and abruptly walked out, outracing the nurse to the exit.  She blasted out of the parking lot with thoughts of schedules and activities jumbling crazily in her mind.

By dinnertime, everything was alright.  A well balanced meal was on the table, and she anticipated an evening spent in the normal routine of homeworks, laundry, and Law and Order.

In bed that night, her husband asked Betty about how it had gone at the doctor’s appointment.  “I’m fine,” said Betty.  She didn’t have time to talk about it.  She rolled over and instantly fell into a sound sleep.

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I was in my forties before I realized how much I used denial as a coping mechanism.  I used to be a pretty good procrastinator, too.  I’m trying to quit.

Ferd