Wednesday, March 9, 2011

Another Bend in the Road, Part One


You may remember this photo I took while on a walk through my neighborhood.  It makes me peaceful thinking about that day, how good I was feeling, and what a great walk it was after so many days of rain and gray weather.

I stopped for a moment there, looking at the bend in the road, and it wasn't long after I discovered this quote I posted recently.

A bend in the road is not the end of the road, as long as you make the turn.  Unknown


I have come to another bend in the road, dear reader, and struggled very hard today to make the turn.  It happened this morning when I received a call from my gynecologist's office to let me know there was something of concern on the ultrasound of my uterus.  A suspicious something on the transvaginal railroad.  She'd like to biopsy it.  Today.


I said no, well, I thought about it.  The scared little girl in me who has had it with cancer camp wanted to say no and run like hell.  And I can run like hell now without my fat bunnies.


"Ok" I whimpered.  She told me to take at least 600-800 mg of Ibuprofen prior to the procedure, which she said will be uncomfortable and hurt, and will result in some cramping and bleeding.


I did her one better, digging a leftover bottle of Vitamin A (Ativan) out of my chemo bag of tricks.  For breakfast this morning I had a banana, 800 mg of ibuprofen, and one Vitamin A.


I put the phone down.  I looked around the room.  It wasn't a dream.  I was awake.  I'm having a biopsy today.  For something completely unrelated to breast cancer.


Deep breath.  Deep breath.

I emailed the Good Witch right after the phone call, told her the news, wanted her in the loop, but mostly her reassurance.  She got right back to me, reminding me not to get ahead of myself, and we need to take this one step at a time.  First step is the biopsy and results.  She asked me to make an appointment with her a week from Friday, everything should be in by then.  She will get her own copies and we will discuss this face to face, just like we always do.

Hang in there, we don't even know what it is yet...or even if it is anything.


Ok Doc, Ok.  I'll try.  She's my Good Witch.  I listen to her.


Next I messaged Husband, who wasn't even at work yet.  I would need him today.  He messaged back quickly saying he'd leave work at noon so he could go with me.

I almost called Dr. Lotus.  I wanted to hear her voice, I knew she would talk me down from this emotional ledge I was on.  I hesitated.  I didn't want to bother her and I didn't want to bawl like a baby on the phone.  I didn't make the call.

I wanted to talk to my peeps, Vonda and KareBear and Kitty...  I didn't make those calls.  I figured I'd be in there soon enough.

I sent out a few text messages to Midge and my brother Ronald and The Senator.  I wanted to call Duncle Dody, but wasn't ready to speak of this.  That is one of the great things about texting.  You can deliver the message without having to say the words out loud.


I got showered and gave Muffy a good scrubbing since she would be the center attraction today.  I got dressed, took my meds, and was ready for whenever Husband would arrive.  Now I could have a good cry, and I did.  I lay on my bed and hugged a willing concerned scruffy poodle. She always licks my port scar whenever I'm wearing a shirt that exposes it.  I cried.  She licked.

There there now Mommy.  I don't know what's the matter, but let me lick your owie and make you better.

I could not believe I was going in for a biopsy today.  I am on the diagnosis train again.  This is unbelievable.  How in the hell did this happen?  This can't happen like this!

I started thinking about my post of just last night.  My great little metaphor about when cancer is in one hand, how you have to find the courage to look into the other hand and receive what is offered to you, make the journey.

Can some bunny tell me, what if you have cancer in both hands?

What if after almost one year of treatment and still recovering and healing, you receive a whole new cancer diagnosis?

Talk to me God.  Send me courage.  I ain't got but maybe an ounce left.  Maybe a thimble.  Maybe just a whisper.  Talk to me.

Help me Lord, lean into the turn.

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