Friday, February 18, 2011

Superstition.

I didn't think I was superstitious until I encountered hopeless situations. When hope runs low, I start grasping at anything to sway the world to better odds.

For example, yesterday I had the terror-filled ultrasound to determine if I had breast cancer. The pressure of the morning was enough to drive me psychotic. If I think a certain way, I'm attracting cancer via Law Of Attraction. And frankly, I was fucking it up because the unbearable pressure to think positively was backfiring on me.

I'm healthy and strong, healthy and strong...that's bullshit. My breasts feel like ziploc bags filled with ice cubes. Why haven't I noticed that until today? Fuck.

Horrible signs of my pending death were mounting: My fearlessness necklace broke, I wore all black, the birthstone in my anniversary ring fell out, and the kitchen clock stopped working.

And to top it off, I used the Cancer Care parking spot reserved for my dad for my ill-fated first mammogram. Why on earth did I do that? That sealed the deal - I was fucked.

As my husband drove me to the appointment he explained that the Katy Perry song "Fireworks" was about inner strength. I started sobbing uncontrollably, gasping and letting the tears splash onto my lap.

Of course this song is about inner strength because the world is telling me that I'm going to need shitloads of it soon! And my birthstone fell out and my necklace broke and I'm wearing all black I never wear all black why am I dressed like I'm attending a funeral? And the clock stopped and my boobies are like ice cube-filled ziploc bags...

He stopped at the red light and said, "Listen to me. A necklace has nothing to do with causing or repairing cancer. Katy Perry doesn't know you. And your boobies don't feel like a bunch of ice cubes. Whatever it is, it is, okay? We got this."

Okay, okay, okay.

No more superstition. I bravely walked to the machine, chatted with the tech as she ran the tests. I courageously laid in the ultrasound room, holding my breath. This is it I thought. This is how it happens. This is how the earth grinds on its axis and changes the course of life and I can't stop her from saying the words to me.

She said, "It's fine. Everything is fine."

Exhale.

I was fine. Everything was fine. I said a prayer for all the women who laid on that same table and did not hear those words. Oddly enough, the "prayer" that spilled from my mouth were from Winnie the Pooh:

...there is something you must always remember. You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think.

To all the women out there surviving and thriving through your journey of breast cancer, we are here for you. We admire you, treasure you, and we are continually inspired by you.

Be well.

1 comment:

  1. Oh Kelly!! I'm always amazed by you. Despite personal fear you have once again managed to turn your own terror into comforting, kind & compassionate words for others. Your strength, even when it seems like it's gone, always blazes through. Heart, Ms. Bologna Macaroni

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