down low.

anyone who knows me well and for a long time would know that i generally write when i am in pain. when i was in high school, i wrote daily in a journal which, i imagine, i will one day pep up and use as fodder for a book. (high school chums: Live in Fear! LOL. yeah, right.) it really helped me, though, as i struggled watching my mom battle breast cancer when i was 15 and again when i was 18. a good friend of mine (at the time, anyway, but that's a whole other unfortunate story entirely) lost his mother to cancer around the time we were 16, and all of that rolled together made me very conscious of cancer, vigilance, and bravery.

now i have a lump.

i went to the gynecologist today to check on a lump i have. i have been watching it for awhile now, but i figured i should get it looked at. i expected to get a pat on the head, i suppose, one of those “oh, it's nothing” kind of visits. BC went with me, and i am glad she did. she kept my mind off of everything — when you have a child, it is hard to focus on yourself, even when everything seems pretty awful. “look,” she said to my dr., “we have sparkly sunscreen on!” indeed, i was going to save the stuff for our beach vacation, but what the hell — live dangerously — and put the kiddie sparkly sunscreen on. i had it on, too, and it was fun to be little again, even for a split second.

anyway, back to reality. the dr. was able to find the lump without my having to tell her where it was. that is not a good sign, in my book. on those rare times i have found a lump in the past, i have had to tell the doctor where it is after she has had a concerted amount of time fingering about. not this time. she found it and the mass next to it without any guess work. (let's tell her what prize she's won, johnny!) she said she could not really tell me what she thought it was and that i should see a specialist. for all she knows, it could be nothing, or they might need to biopsy it. yippee.

so now, i get to visit a surgeon up in friendship heights next week, armed with my mammograms.

i've noticed that when i am feeling wretched, i listen to an awful lot of joni mitchell. maybe i need to switch to something more cheery, like, uh, i dunno. like the buzz cocks.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: