Earlier this week, after returning home from a few hours of packing/tossing at Cold Comfort Cottage, Fellow Traveler and I consoled one another with the thought, "After this weekend we'll be over this drama. And how nice that will be."
Hours later I was lying on an examining table, in the middle of what I'd assumed would be a fairly routine annual exam, being told by the doctor that I needed a mammogram and a consult with a surgeon. Because the annoying itchy spot on my breast that I'd chalked up to being bitten by some unseen critter -- one that had left a similarly irritated spot on my leg around the same time -- may well be cancer.
So much for the no drama thing.
I drove back to my office in a fog, packed up my computer and came home. Fellow Traveler wasn't home; and to make matters worse, she'd left her cell phone at the Cottage. I didn't see the car near the local business where she was heading that morning. I drove back home; decided to drive back to the cottage. En route I saw her approaching; I flashed my lights and pointed north. She told me later that at first she was totally confused by my presence in town at midday, but when she saw my ashen face she knew something was wrong.
FT is not a stranger to this type of news; 30-some years ago, when she had her younger son, she was diagnosed with cancer and had to undergo treatment while caring for a newborn and a toddler. So I sobbed into her shoulder for awhile. Then we picked the dogs up from their grooming appointment and all went home. And the humans played online Scrabble and Scramble while the shorn canines skittered around in the back yard. I was exhausted, and asleep by 7:00 p.m.
Later on that night I tossed and turned awhile, trying to process all of this. I finally dozed off and had a strangely light, amusing dream that made me chuckle when I woke up, until I remembered my exam. Then the thought occurred to me: Find your team.
I have learned to honor my 2:00 a.m. intuitions. So I'm gathering my team. I'm calling it the E Team, in honor of Fellow Traveler's and my first names. It needs healers and pray-ers, and joke tellers and encouragers, and cancer veterans and information-gatherers, and quiet listeners. Everyone's on the field; no one gets benched.
Please be on my team, in the weeks to come.
So much for the post-Christmas no-drama.
23 comments:
Prayin'
Absolutely! My bc was 12 years ago, fortunately for me stage 0 but for various reasons I had mastectomy with reconstruction. You can email me at my handle+gmail and if any of my experience is helpful, you're welcome to it. Prayers too, goes without saying.
I will pray for you.
Yes, your on my list, heart, and mind. I didn't know that itching was a bad symptom.
I'm praying.
As for the other positions, I'll start with joke-telling.
It's from Garrison Keillor's joke show, maybe ten years ago.
Once there was a pirate with a peg leg, hook hand, and eye patch. The tourists gathered around started to ask questions.
Tourist 1: Where'd the peg leg come from?
Pirate: I was raiding a ship and I had to go overboard. An alligator came alongand nipped it off.
Tourist 2: What about the hand?
Pirate: I lost that to a shark when I was fleeing the navy.
Tourist 3: What about the eye patch.
Pirate: That was when a seagull pooped in my eye.
All: Well how did that do anything?
Pirate: well, it was just after I got the hook.
God is with you.
Right there on your team, LC, praying, for starters.
Sending a prayer.
absolutely prayers...I'd be proud to be on your team!
Count me on your team. I come from a line of bc survivors (going as far back as my great-grandmother). I've had diagnostic sonograms, but no diagnosis yet, though it's always on my radar.
I will pray for you.
P. S. Diagnostic sonogram was a few years back.
When is your doctor's appt?
Prayers ascending.
I'm in on your team!
Also, this may or may not turn out to be helpful, but I had almost this same scenario happen to me last fall, complete with stress and fear and horror and absolute certainty I was going to die (b/c that's the way I think apparently--who knew/). Then, mammogram, ultrasound, and surgeon consult later, it actually turned out okay and now I'm just on monitoring. So things don't have to be as dire as the imagination first suggests! May this be the case for you too--amen.
I'll be praying for smooth sailing and lots of courage and peace.
Praying for you here; I will light a candle for you each night.
On you team. Beloved went through this a few years ago. I was the one sweating and praying in the waiting room...
I know how important my team was and is to me. I'll be here.
LC, have you ever seen the commercials with the Verizon Wireless guy and everyone standing behind him?
When you are in having this looked at further, think of your team there behind you, just like the Verizon guy!
You are not alone. (I don't mean that in a scary way!)
I'll definitely pray for you, LC. And for Fellow Traveler as well.
The image of the Verizon guy that KMom wrote about is definitely accurate (although I've never imagined JC with glasses and a Blackberry ;-)) Take good care, and know that you truly are not alone.
I am sorry that I just now saw this. I'm on your team, as a pray-er and in whatever other capacity you need.
((LC))
We've got your back.
You are very much in my prayers as well.
Just seen this, LC.
You've got a good prayer team here. Mine are ascending!
b.
In the name of our Saviour Jesus Christ, be strengthened and filled with God's grace, that you may know the healing power of the Spirit. Amen
Joe Stinky is tired of going through life with that name so he goes to petition the court to change his name. The judge asked, "What is your name?" Joe replies, "Joe Stinky." The judge asks, "What do you want your name changed to?" Joe answers, "Charlie."
In the name of our Saviour Jesus Christ, be strengthened and filled with God's grace, that you may know the healing power of the Spirit. Amen
Joe Stinky is tired of going through life with that name so he goes to petition the court to change his name. The judge asked, "What is your name?" Joe replies, "Joe Stinky." The judge asks, "What do you want your name changed to?" Joe answers, "Charlie."
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