The Flames of Hell Are Nipping at my Heels

Waltzing Along - James

May your eyes be opened by the wonderful

I have to say that this really sucks. Two steps forward and one step backwards. I am trying to remain positive about this latest news that has been delivered to crush my soul, however right now the only thing that is running through my head is that I am positive that I am tired of continually falling into the abyss. Quite frankly, I don't know how many more times I can claw my way out since the worn footholds are getting smooth and I am slipping.

I thought I was being proactive, I booked an appointment with my doctor for my annual physical. There is always a bit of dread there because we have heard so many times via the media about silent killers. I was not completely convinced I want to know about these murderous evils lurking in wait to off me. But that is irrational since medical advancements have led to many satisfactory outcomes if the little devils haven't gotten to far in their destruction. So to that end I agreed to the invasive probing and promised to book for preventative screening. If was just a fluke that when I called to book for my mammogram they happened to have a cancellation December 3rd. Panicked, I took it knowing that with fewer than 4 full days to fret I would be more likely to keep the stress at bay. I know people who have waited months for these appointments so I guess I felt kind of lucky. 

I know what these appointments are like. I've had one done before, although I can't remember when or why. It may have been in my 20's. It was definitely long before mammogram and breast cancer became familiar words in the news and media. I assume that my doctor at the time found something abnormal in the routine breast exam or I had some complaint. I don't remember that but I recall the pain. Fortunately it only lasts very briefly. 

Trying to remember the details of that first pancaking of my breasts was at the forefront of my mind as I sat in the clinic waiting for my turn. The technician explained the procedure and then had me disrobe from the waist up. The machine has changed since I last saw the beast. Double whammy for both breasts. One top to bottom squish and a second side to side. Fortunately the machine plates move and you don't have to. Wandering around topless at my age is not a fun prospect even if the only other person is a professional technician. 

The screening clinic was in the local mall so being close to Christmas I put it out of my mind and did some shopping. I felt good that I did something positive about taking care of me. 

I guess the last thing you imagine is that you will be one of those people who get the ABNORMAL grade. It was a positive conversation that I was having with my doctor. The date was 11.12.13 - it was touted as a day of good fortune. Things were finally looking up for me and I was feeling hopeful. The look on her face changed when she reached for the paper after I had told her about my quick mammogram appointment. Her face said it all before I heard her words. I failed the test. My body had turned against me and betrayed me. There is something there that isn't supposed to be. I have to go for more testing. And although there is nothing to worry about the tests are next week. Pretty quick if it's nothing to worry about. I am grateful that my timely appointment meant that she could tell me about it rather than being alone to see the death sentence. It seems I will be getting a similar letter in the mail advising of the results and appointment times. If I don't get the mail, if I don't open the letter, can I pretend that this isn't real?

I think I was in shock. I went for the rest of my appointments and finished my errands. But as I drove home it was like driving in a blinding rain storm. I couldn't see for the tears running down my face and clouding my eyes. I've never been one to feel sorry for myself but damn I was mad. This isn't fair. 

The one thing that kept running through my mind was that saying "What doesn't kill us, makes us stronger." Dear God, it wasn't meant as a fucking challenge. People keep telling me (much to my chagrin) that I am strong. Clearly I have reached my limit there since I snapped like a whip, cracked like an egg, broke like branch, shattered like crystal nearly 3 years ago. With no strength left to be had, maybe my limit has been reached. Maybe my time on the earth's parking meter is expired.

So forgive me, but I am having a lot of trouble coming to terms with this news and remaining positive. In my head, I am preparing for the worst. I don't want to touch myself, I am afraid that if I find the offending mass I'll cut it out myself. I don't want to look, because all I see is a deformed me. My breasts were the one thing I liked about myself and now they have turned against me. For all the flaws, I was able to find some positive somewhere and that lay in part on my chest. Changed with age but still a part of my body I could like.

To continue in a changed way. 

A friend often says he is not a great catch but what he forgets is that he is already caught and everyday that he wakes up, there is someone who loves him unconditionally and forever. He was loved when he liked himself before and now when he aged and changed. He talks physical attributes and forgets that he is so much more - I see it. Others see it. He needs better glasses. 

I have never known that devotion. He is lucky. 

A fisherman will see beauty in a large mouth bass. Your average person will look past the scaly skin and bones and appreciate and savour what's inside. But nobody wants a clown fish except for a good laugh. 

Knowing that someone loves you for who you are can make all the difference in the world. And the doctor asked, is there anyone that can go with you to the appointments. And I saw a video that was posted about the guy who dressed in a pink tutu and took pictures of himself to send to his wife to make her smile while she was undergoing treatment. And I'm tired. I don't want to go through this alone or with anyone else. I don't want this to be my reality.  And although it may be a little premature and fatalistic, I don't need another scar. For the strikes against me have put me out of the game a long time ago. 

Hope is gone and although the plate is full, it's brussel sprouts and liver that nobody wants. Not even me.