For moments afterwards, I stood there alone in this tiny bathroom, beautiful sunlight coming down from the skylight above me. I looked on with quickened breath and an unsteady gaze into my very own eyes in the mirror.
In that exact moment I knew… I knew this might be “thee moment”… the moment when life changes… the moment the reality card is again dealt… the moment when life suddenly splits between the “before” of this moment, and to the “afters” of this moment, leaving this moment, this exactly fingerprint of time, to become the defining moments in which to gauge all things.
I closed my eyes slowly. Lord I did not want to this become another moment. No, No, No, No.
I slowly opened my eyes. I took the sports bra back of, and felt like I was moving in slow motion. I watched for that spot again in the mirror, and then slowly lifted my arm to really look, to really touch, to really say hello to the possible new visor and the reality and luggage it was surely going to drag along with it.
My heart continued to race and wild thoughts instantly began swirling in my mind. I heard the hubs walk in and I immediately summoned him into the bathroom, a space that wasn’t big enough really for one person to fit, let alone two.
I told him to look. I made him touch it. He looked back at me with a blank look stating it’s a fatty deposit, he was sure it was nothing. Have I ever mentioned just how extremely opposite he and I are when it comes to evaluating and dealing with life?!? I have already run ten point two million possible scenarios in my head for every situation I have every found myself in, and he… well… he honestly could care less. Why worry about today what might not happen tomorrow. And he doesn’t just “not worry…” he honestly just “does not care” until there is true and absolute reason to care. Granted, I could learn a few lessons from him on all this, but heaven-to-betsy-bob at least entertain the possibility every now and again!! ( you’re kill’n me smalls! )
I called the clinic the following day and was able to get in a few days later. The doctor did seem to think it was only a cyst… but also moved up my next mammogram to the next available appointment. Which wasn’t for another three weeks.
And as I shared with a few people, I was surprised and comforted to find out there was a lot of this very thing going on with a lot of people, and nearly all of them shared it didn’t end up being cancer.
Surprisingly enough I wasn’t overly obsessed, or panicked, or consumed as entered those following three weeks. I didn’t lose sleep, I didn’t lose my appetite, I didn’t lose any weight (awww shucks, hu?!). I honestly didn’t think about it much, and I was grateful God was keeping my crazy brain somewhat at bay. Although … I did make a last minute decision to run a half marathon that I wasn’t initially planning or training for.
A small voice inside me telling me I might in fact not get to run that half I’m currently training for in October, depending what happens in the next few weeks. So I signed up and ran the Faith Moves Mountains Half Marathon … the race was on August 26th, and our dear little Faith MaryJo’s due date had been August 27th, 2015. I felt it just all too fitting to not at least attempt to finish it. And I didn’t just finish it, I almost beat my PR time! I missed it by a mere matter of seconds, and that was running with a strained groin injury I had gotten earlier that week.
There was a small voice inside telling me to run it hard, to enjoy it, to go all out… just in case… just in case this was to by my last half marathon I would get to run.
As I stood in the shower the morning of the mammogram, I found myself reflecting over the nine mile workout I had just completed. It had been three weeks since I first saw this new “friend” of mine that morning in the camper. It had been three years since we entered into our Journey to Faith, as we loved and lost our daughter. It had been two years since I had entered into my Journey to Weight Loss, deciding to finally put myself on my own to-do list, to take on my health, work on my fitness, embrace my inner self and finally work on both the angels and demons that reside deep (and not so deep) within the recesses of my heart, mind, and soul.
My whole life I have battled my weight. I My whole live I have always been blessed with abundant health (yes, I’m the one who graduated from High School with perfect attendance K-12th grade) and until I found myself sick when I was pregnant with Faith, I totally took that all for granted. But not any more. My health, and all the facets involving my health (spiritual, mental, physical) have been a grand work in process over the last two years.
And that morning in the shower, the thought occurred to me that I was standing there, forty-three years old, and in the best shape I have ever been in my life. And despite all the exercise, all the prayer, all the nutrition, all the things I have pushed and required of myself and my body… All of that still had not made me immune to that five letter word starting with “c”.
I could be at the top, the very best I’m going to ever be… and in the blink of an eye I might have that all taken away. Poof. Gone. Finished. Finito. I have always been one to be conscious of this reality. I don’t live with rose tinted glasses looking at my life expecting it all to be handed to me on a silver platter. I’d like to think I’m one that tends to be more realistic, more expectant, more deep, more weathering.
I stood with the hot water pummeling me and I breathed in deep. If that spot was in fact more than just a cyst, it was already more than just a cyst. Going in for my appointment was not going to change, or stop, or make that a different diagnosis or outcome. It’s just life… so true to my life… Another possible fork in the road. Another possible journey I will get to venture to and through. Another opportunity for growth, another opportunity to be honest, and vulnerable, and open and share about.
And possible another opportunity to hit rock bottom and try and figure out how to merely survive to the following day. Of course this is not what I’m hoping or surly wanting… but no matter what this ends up being, I am hopeful that I am going to attempt to look at it all through the lens God is wanting me to view and experience it out of.
I don’t want to meet new nurses and surgeons and fellow patients. I don’t want to endure all that packs itself into cancer’s carryon suitcase. I don’t want to be a statistic. I don’t want to be another face. I don’t want to be another story.
And maybe I won’t be. But maybe I will. And maybe it won’t be this time, but it will be next time. It’s just how this life works, with all it’s variables and unknowns. It’s how we are, and who we are, in the midst of the wait, the battle, and the aftermath that truly define each and every one of us.
I earnestly pray tonight, as I quietly and silently wait for results and feedback, that I merely live my life the way in which God has wanted and intended me to. May I walk with faith, may I run with endurance. May I speak and share with clarity and compassion and integrity. May I clearly see who it is I’m supposed to see, touch who I’m supposed to touch, hear who I’m supposed to hear, care for who I’m supposed to care for.
May whatever my plan and my purpose is, may it will be clearly lived out, no matter what the outcome, what the battles, what the journeys, what the joys, what the sorrows, what the heartaches, what the victories. May the little steps and whispers and thoughts of every single day merely weave quietly together a life’s tapestry of beauty and grace that will be fondly remembered whether my last day is tomorrow, or my last day is decades and decades yet down the road.
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