It's been a heck of a few weeks folks. June is busting out all over. Lots of info coming.
Two weeks ago, as a prerequisite for getting a breast reduction, I was sent for a routine mammogram. I went alone, relishing in the peace and quiet of being without children and not having to wear a burp cloth to spare my clothes. It was nice. I was sent into a dressing room to remove my top and put on a gown. As I got ready, I noticed a poster depicting the four stages of breast cancer. You see a small tumor in Stage 1. By stage 4, it looks like vines that have overtaken every node and and space in your breast, arm pit and chest. It was frightening. Hard to look at. It scared me.
I was called in for the mammogram. It was everything you think it is. Uncomfortable. Embarrassing. But necessary. I watched as the tech looked at the films before I would be released to get redressed. I saw her look at the screen, tilt her head and then began to chew her lip. I felt uneasy. She then asked me to stay in my gown and they were going to do an ultrasound. I thought, 'well what the H does that mean?' She left me in the room and I immediately picked up my phone to get some information. Big mistake. Don't ever do that when you're in the doctor's office with news that may or may not be worrisome.
I looked to the table and saw the People magazine with Angelina Jolie on the cover with the story "My Brave Decision", about her voluntary double mastectomy. And it hit me like a ton of bricks: Not oh my gosh I might have breast cancer, but oh my gosh, I brag about getting a breast reduction when there are women everywhere who don't have a choice in the matter. Women everyday lose their breasts in hopes of saving their life. I felt foolish, embarrassed, and like an ass for placing so much emphasis on hating my imperfect saggy boobs and counting down the days until I could lose them. I. Am. An. Ass. I sincerely apologize for my insensitivity.
After my ultrasound and after my loving husband came to my side, the doctor told us that there was indeed a mass, the size of a lemon, and that it would need to come out.
The first two things to cross my mind were 1) I need to clean my house, and 2) I need to make lots of frozen casseroles. Weird I know. Morbid, yes.
The next day the doctors had me an appointment with a surgeon. Which scared me even more because docs around here are notorious for not being in a hurry. I went in on Tuesday and he scheduled surgery for that Thursday. I can't tell you what we did for those two days. I thought about writing letters to my kids. I thought about all the things that I wanted to do. All the things that I regretted doing. All the people that were special to me, as well as people that I had wronged. All the women that I would refuse for Jon to marry, as well as a Maybe list. And then you push all that away. Because it's just a waste of time. And it makes you sad. And it's just too damn hard.
We went to the hospital on Thursday morning.
Comic relief: A nurse came in with an electric razor and said "I'm here to shave you."
I said "Wo, wo wo, we are working on the breast today, and no one should be going near anywhere that needs a razor."
"I know that honey but you'd be surprised just how many times we have to use this."
Sooo there's that bit of information. And to those women who have this problem, I am so very very sorry.
We waited for surgery for 5 hours. My mom and husband were in the room with me. I surprisingly didn't want to talk to them. I retreated, and for reasons unknown, found it hard to even look at them. It just made me want to cry. My emotions that day are hard to verbalize. I always say that this running/exercise/journey to peace is a mind over matter game. And the same is true for this. My mind would not allow me to go to that place of "what if" though it teetered on the edge of my consciousness just enough to feel the effects. It left me sad and angry and detached. And I know my family felt the same.
I didn't look at Jon or my mom until it was time to be wheeled away and all of a sudden I wanted to hold his hand and tell him thank you for what he's done for me over the past 8 years. How he saved me and made me happy and grateful and apologize for all the times that I seemed anything but.
I first went to a room where they inserted a wire into my breast in order to guide the surgeon. I laid on a table with a hole in it for my breast. Uncomfortable and cold, I got really scared. The nurses sensed it and did their best to put me at ease by asking about my children. That's when the tears came. And they didn't stop. They were extremely kind and understanding and said "Honey this always happens." One held my hand while the surgeon and other nurse talked me through it. They took more xrays and once they lifted me up, I saw it. I saw the xray and a clear picture of this thing in my body that is either absolutely not threatening, or could end my existence. So I cried some more. The nurse whispered "you're about to go to sleep honey and the tears will stop."
I was grateful when they did. I was grateful to slip away from that moment.
When I woke up, it was out. Everything went fine. I have a two inch scar that I was assured will be cut out during my reduction that is still scheduled for July 19. The surgeon showed Jon a picture of the tumor, which he described as looking like kryptonite. hfff. Boys. We waited two days on the pathology results.
And it is benign. Talk about waiting on a phone call.
So that part is over. I will take away from this experience.....many things which for one reason or another, I won't discuss. It feels too intimate. Too raw. I'll come back to this. I do want to say thank you to those of you who wrote, called, sent texts or food and prayers. I appreciated them all and felt the love. Thank you.
Good note: I was blessed beyond reason on Saturday morning to see a very dear friend, Maria Geno, cross the finish line in her first ever 5k. If you've never been a spectator in a race, you must do this. It is rewarding, inspiring, and leaves you feeling almost as good as if you ran the race yourself. To see people, especially someone you care deeply for, achieve a goal that at one time they thought impossible, is a rare, precious gift. I was proud to see her proud of herself. I cried tears of joy because I could see her joy and spirit in her tears. I knew what was going through her mind as she got closer: "I'm going to do it. I didn't think I could, but I did it. And it feels freaking fantastic!" There are few things as gratifying as crossing that first finish line. She'll remember it forever. And I'll remember it too.
And lastly, sadly, I watched a friend say goodbye to his long time partner this week. A tragic, sudden accident, and he is gone. At his celebration of life service, the recurring theme was the effect that he had on the world and the lives he touched. One of those souls who lit up a room and made you smile just by being in his presence. And after that beautiful service, and the precursors to the week, I am left with a sense of responsibility. To myself and to my family and friends. We are not promised tomorrow. We are not promised the next hour. All we have is right now. And all that we truly leave behind is how we made people feel.
In that waiting room, and upon my realization that I was being insensitive to my fellow women, I vowed to always try and think before I speak. I'm not referring to religious or political beliefs. Be who you are. Stand up for your rights and freedoms. I'm speaking in reference to people's emotions. Like use of the 'R' word and the 'N' word. Like when Jack couldn't speak at age 4 and people would complain to me about their kids not shutting up. Like when people complain about running or exercising and there are people who would give their teeth to be able to move at all. Like when people put random pics of someone up at the walmart on the FB to point out how ridiculous they look. People, most of you have 1000 friends. You don't think someone who sees that is not related to that person? How do you think it makes them feel? And listen, I know that I of all people am guilty of pissing people off with my words. I know the taste of my foot like the back of my hand because of all the times I've stuck my foot in my mouth. Am I saying we should all walk on eggshells? Maybe. But isn't that a small price to pay to spare someone the feeling of hurt or sadness or anger or depression?
I want to be remembered for making people feel happy. Or hopeful. I'll settle for just not making them sad. But after these last two weeks, that's my challenge to you and to me. What legacy do you want to leave? What will they say about you when you are no longer here?
Quote of the day- borrowed from the service honoring Martin Thomas: "I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel." - Maya Angelou
Songs of the day: Make Someone Happy - Jimmy Durante; The Reason - Hoobastank (I just can't get it out of my head this week, sorry. That and Miley Cyrus' The Climb but there's no chance in hell she gets a song of the day)
