by casscomerford • August 10th, 2010 • posted in
Life as I know it
My breasts haven’t been handled this much in months (a lot of months) and god I so wish it were in another situation. Every year for the rest of my life I’ll be checked and re-checked and then checked again for breast cancer. My Mom being a survivor – a thriver really , she just doesn’t get by, she freaking rocks my world – puts me in that high-risk territory.
When your body is laying at an angle in a closet with the lights dim and a wedge under your right side and at least one stranger in the room evaluating the globs and blood flow in your best asset…well…your mind wanders.
The ceiling is that awful drop ceiling stuff and you’re left to count the tiles so that you can distract yourself from things like cancer and death and the smell of chemo as its going into people and the smell of chemo as its killing the death out of people. There was something to look at today – and it caused one person to look – and then another person – and then a third person and then an entire team of people. Each time the door shuts behind them in consultation you create a new bargain for yourself:
The first time you think: I will NEVER talk about how I have great boobs – hell I’ll get rid of them tomorrow – just let me be there for my baby – let me be here to see her grow up – let her know me.
The second time they leave you go into the bargaining: I’ll be a better person – I’ll donate more to those foundations. But I already do. And each time I press submit on them I am, in my own way, telling those cancer cells to go away – I’ll throw money at you – just stay the hell away from me and the people I love.
The third time they all leave you think: Okay, this is clearly not good. You’re going to be fine. Medicine is an incredible thing. You will be fine. You have to be fine. You must be. You can’t miss any of this. It’s too good. This living thing is so sweet and you’re finally getting it. You must be okay. You must.
On their last entrance into my closet (you can’t qualify that space as a room) they gave me the all clear – “you’re fine” they said – we’ll see you in a year. And they close the door and leave me to mop up the gel and the tears and I promise to do everything that I pleaded to get the chance to do on each of their exits. And then I exhaled – spent some time doing a puzzle with Lexi, took in the smell of her hair and whispered I love you about a million times. I’m not taking this whole life thing for granted – not for one minute.
Have you felt yourself up lately? Do it.
I hope this is the best birthday ever! This year is going to bring great things your way!
....and now for the good part. I noticed that as soon as I looked at the page today. I like it! Happy Birthday pretty lady!
I hope this birthday is the beginning of many beautiful things for you! Can't wait to read all about the future good parts!!! Happy Birthday, Cass!
Happy Birthday, Cass! I hope you have a stupendous day. :)
Happy Birthday!
Happiest of birthdays to the loveliest of lovelies!
Happy Birthday, Cass! I hope you have a wonderful decade. :) My 30s were a fantastic time for me. I just know yours will be for you.
Happy Birthday to you! What a positive wonderful change "and then" oh and as a 38 year old woman - welcome to your 30s. I think they are much better than my 20s were.
I love the new tagline -- it's perfect!! And happy birthday, even though I'm late! Hope you had a wonderful day!