is a single mama in the city, super-savvy editor, writer, video host and shameless shoe whore.
Relief
Thursday, March 19, 2009
I was sitting in my gynecologist's office, adjusting the gown tighter around me. When I glanced down, I could see the over-bleached folds falling just over my knees and my feet, crossed tensely at the ankle, with navy blue and silver toenails. When I looked up, I could see my doctor in a swivel chair, holding my chart, nodding calmly as I told her what was going on. In my head and in my chest.
By chest, I don't just mean the lump in my breast. I mean the shortness of breath, the blood pressure racing wildly, the twist of anxiety in my heart.
My mind, of course, had been spinning for weeks. Fortunately for me, a therapist, my parents, too many friends to count, and even more friends from across the interhoods, lots of droppers full of flower essences, several very hot and bubbly baths, prayers and breathing and yoga every morning, delicious cured meat, plus one bottle of zin were working on the worries that tend to build and build and build.
My doctor listened and when she talked, the words she chose were compassionate. Then she examined me. She is straightforward and that whatever she had to say after it would be quick, concise and raw. And that's what she did.
"Jessica," she said, patting my shoulder to let me know I could sit up, "this is not what breast cancer feels like."
She asked me to go ahead with the ultrasound mammogram, assuring me that if she had any concern at all, she would send me to get one that day.
"Let's do it quickly," she spoke right to the place where my mind shot, "so we can close the door on your anxiety."
She told me the lump I felt was really a ridge and it's because my breasts are cystic in that area. She said she'd refer me to a breast surgeon for twice-yearly exams by a doctor. She also said I could call if those worries creep up again.
I cried, of course. Because I needed to thank God and the universe and whatever and whoever is helping me through this time.
It's not over, I know. I have a two-hour ultrasound mammogram ahead. I also know cutting way back on caffeine has been shown to help cystic breasts be less cystic and more healthy breastic. As for the stress, more yoga and breathing and time with those friends will certainly help me keep unwinding that knot.
I am lucky, also. I know too many women, many of whom I love deeply, who have kicked back or are kicking back against cancer. I understand I'm in no way immune.
Today, though, I'm alright. I still have one more scan and much more meditation to move through. But hallelujah, tears and blissfully cystic ta-tas, today I am alright.
