Friday, August 14, 2015

Be The Light



Part of me feels like I shouldn't be writing this. But there is a part of me that wants to journal it raw, and before it is affected by any further news. It is real. It is me, right now... today, and for the last two weeks.

I went for a routine mammogram about 3 weeks ago. Well... truth be told it was my first mammogram, which... I had been putting off for 9 years. It wasn't intentional. Some years I was pregnant. Some years I was nursing. I even ran straight over to the radiology department after my annual appointment one year to get it done. But... I couldn't guarantee that I wasn't pregnant. So, I left to return the next month. But, as always happens in my life... month turned into month... turned into years. Thus, at the age of 49, I just had my first mammogram.

The technician told me more than once not to panic if I got a phone call in the next week. She said that, especially on the first mammogram, anything slightly out of the ordinary requires some follow up scans in order to create a base line for the future. What's normal for one woman, may not be for another, etc. So... I left feeling fairly carefree. I got it. Made sense.

One whole week passed, and I felt a relief of underlying anxiety that I didn't even realize was there. A few more days passed, and I felt home free. PHEW.

Then. The. Phone. Rang.

"This is Rhode Island Imaging."

My heart sank before I could even process anything she was saying.

This was the typical call back the technician had warned me about. She didn't say anything about ultrasounds as well. But... that's ok. I'm a big girl. This is all normal. Then my heart sank a little deeper. The lady on the phone told me that the radiologist was concerned about something questionable on the left side. The. Left. Side. I hadn't told anyone, not even my husband, about pain I had been having on my left side. Pain that was still there. Pain that is still there as I type. No lumps, or anything. And I do my monthly manual exam. I have since I was about 10, when my mom first taught me. No lumps. No change. Just some pain, which I assumed was from my evil underwire.

I have to confess, that I was shaken. I didn't want to be. I felt ridiculous. I am the queen of positive attitude. But, then I had to remind myself that being positive, and choosing happiness does not mean that you ignore your feelings. It means you allow them, process them, and keep moving forward, choosing happiness. So, I teeter tottered between feeling the sun's rays emanating from my heart of positive enlightenment to planning how I would tell my children, and writing a letter to my husband's future wife. I also was slightly pissed that my dreads have not yet grown out to their full gorgeousness, and I might lose them all, after 17 months of dealing with their goofy stages.

Oy. Me. So imperfect. So fragile. So afraid.

But, even in the midst of that uncertainty, I kept choosing happiness. I keep choosing to not fear... to not lose one day of this life to anything in my imagination.

This is the test isn't it? All of the moments in life when you exercise what you believe... faith, philosophy, etc. It all comes down to what you do when the real trials hit. And here I am... still in limbo... still choosing happiness. I grasp at all kinds of things. But, in the end, all that matters is being who I want to be the mother of my children. They know I am imperfect. And we all get quite a few laughs over that. But I want them to see that it is possible to choose happiness no matter what. I want them to see that EVERY DAY is precious. Not just the good ones. Not just the sunshiny ones. EVERY ONE.

So... I prepare now to leave for my scans. I have lots of prayers in my heart. I have a few fears in my brain. But... I leave knowing that whatever the outcome, I am always on the road of becoming the me I was created to be. I know that all things, good and bad, mold us. I know that every twist and turn renews the journey.

The thing I have most learned in these past two weeks is that I waste too much time on fear. I don't take the creative chances I should take. I hold back. WHAT AM I WAITING FOR??? This is it, chickie-poo!!! This is the only life here on earth you've got. DO IT!!! Isn't that what I'm always saying I would tell the 20 year old me if I could? Well, the 70 year old me is telling the 49 year old me to stop messing around, dig deep and JUST DO IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And with that... I face today. And tomorrow. With the hope that I will remember the lesson. And that I will remember when times seem dim. I am the light I am looking for.

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