Hanging On While Letting Go
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| Bogey's favorite swing |
So I stood there numbly
and dumbly, pushing my son in his favorite swing, unsure what to do
next. As this was happening, I reasoned that he was perfectly safe
and happy so I could indulge in a mental check out. I tried to think
but it sounded like a hive of bees had taken up residence inside my
head. I had both called and shown up to the office in person
requesting a set of my labs, only to be rebuffed until the Doctor
called me directly. I had given up hope that I would get answers
this day, as the office had closed 30 minutes or so before the call
came. Squamous Cell Carcinoma. I had skin cancer. My brain reeled
back to nursing school reaching for recall of the skin cancer
lectures. Basal cell? Least scary. What were the really scary
words? Malignant melanoma. Where did Squamous fall? I couldn't
remember. I continued to push my boy in swing like an automaton,
trying to push away thoughts of not being around to raise him. Tears
poured from behind my sunglasses.
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| Know the skin you are in |
I guess this is the part
where I back up. We had known since February that we needed to find
a new place to live. Our lease was up and the landlord was moving
back from Alaska and wanted his house back. Our deadline was April
1st. Real estate is hard on Maui, and nearly impossible in Kihei,
the city we live in. Duncan ate the search with breakfast, lunch,
and dinner from day one scouring Craigslist and the like. I started
preparing March 1st by renting a storage unit and packing away the
non-essentials. I had been jolted awake the night before with a wave
of “oh crap we have to be out in a month!”
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| Tetris! |
Living for a year in a
home with plenty of space seems to have a tribble-like effect on
one's belongings. And then add a baby. Gasoline on a fire? More
like water on Gremlins. I started to suspect burglars were breaking
in and LEAVING stuff. When I was packing the toiletries in my
bathroom, I was convinced there were no less than three other women
living in the house that I had never run into.
Between being a mom,
working, packing things into a storage unit, and trying to do all the
adulting things, I had managed to half ignore the weird spot on my
left bicep for a month or two. It was flaky and a bit raised, more
pink than my already red-pink complexion. It wasn't quite a scab yet
not quite intact. I noticed it after a buggy day at the beach and
convinced myself I had been bitten by something that was just taking
a while to heal.
One evening I got out of
the bath and caught the spot just so in the light. My inner nurse
had a good scream at me. I called to make an appoint with my PCP the
next morning and it just so happened she had an opening that evening.
My doctor wanted to get me in with a dermatologist. I not so calmly
explained I didn't have time to wait for another appointment to roll
around, and it didn't have to be pretty, it's not like it was on my
face. I pushed, and she cut. A core punch biopsy. Four days later
I was calling and stalking the office, but had to wait for the doctor
to call me first.
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| Biopsy |
And that's where this
story starts. Only, it's not. Here's a timeline:
March 19th I had a
mammogram
March 22nd I had a biopsy
on my arm
March 26th We signed a
lease (Thank the Goddess!) The thought of homelessness is bad enough,
but terrifying when one has a toddler to care for. Also got the call
that I tested positive for skin cancer
March 27th
Received mammogram results by mail that additional views were needed
on my left breast (had a hard time beating back the movies in my head
of a slowly taken apart disfiguring death. But mostly just not being
there to raise my boy)
March 29th
Did the condo walk-thru, got keys, and cleaned the hell out of the
place
March 30th
Crammed a house into a 800sf condo and a storage space. Also – got
my period. Because if life is gonna be a cynical sitcom, might as
well go all the way
April 2nd
Had a follow up mammogram
April 5th
Got confirmation by mail that my boobs, in fact, were not actually
trying to kill me. Sort of started picturing them hovering
menacingly above me while I slept. All clear, come back in a year
April (Friday) the 13th
(because sitcom) Had surgical margins excised from around my biopsy
site to check for clean margins
April 17th
After giving up hope that I would get my results that day – the
dermatologist (whose office closes at 4:30p) called me at 8p (bless
her) to tell me that my arm, despite a lifetime of drivers side sun exposure,
was also not trying to kill me. Anymore. Have a nice life see you
every six months now for a head to toe check...
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| This will make a nice tattoo in a few years |
And there you have it.
Only, you don't.
Our forced downsize
required that Duncan now rent a brick and mortar business location.
He had been teaching Pilates out of our home since moving here, but
that was no longer an option. So all along he had been hunting for
not one but two properties. We had two moves, three if you count
storage. And an 18 month old that was feeling the stress and strain.
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| The new studio is coming along! |
Within the first few
nights of living in the condo I had what I do believe, was my first
panic attack. It felt like a concrete blanket pressing and piling
onto my chest. All I wanted to do was lie down in the middle of my
bed and not move. Alas, this was not an option, I was somebodies
mommy now. I had to take it in pieces. What does he need before I
put him to bed? Jammies. Check. Brush his teeth. Check. Drink of
water...
It remind me of the time
I was on The Big Island. I hiked the mile (straight) down into the
Waipio Valley. When It was time to go I realized I had found the
edges of my physical ability, I was not sure If I had the strength
and endurance to hike (straight) back up. The heat. The sun. The
fact that only 4 wheel drive vehicles were allowed down there. I
just started picking small goals. I'm going to walk to that sign,
that fence post, that rock, now I'm going to go check out that cool
flower. That's how I hiked back up without desperately flagging down
one of the tour vans shuttling people up and down.
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| Waipio Valley steepness |
I had been overcome by
thoughts of not being able to keep my son safe. Both the condo and
Duncan's business were on second floors now. Big scary yawning
concrete and metal stair ways that looked hungry for baby flesh. Our
last home had three steps up the front porch. He figured out before
I did that the bedroom and bathroom doors have push locks. They are
the kind that “pop” with the poke and twist of a screwdriver, all
except the one to my bathroom. Someone that once lived here changed
the knob to a keyed lock. And I do not have the key to it. My boy
nearly locked himself behind a door I could not open. With the tub
running. The rubble of our lives was a pile I could not keep him
away from. I fell back to my pre pregnancy weight, having dropped
about 10 pounds in a few weeks.
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| Honey, have you seen the baby? |
I was angry with myself
for not being as ballsy and fierce and brave as I was when I was in
my 20's. However all of that was fueled by anger. Having my baby
has blown my heart wide open, and I process differently now. I am
learning to be fierce through love. The only thing I would want back
from my 20s would be my boobs. They were rock hard and up to here...
I had to do something I
am horrible at. I had to ask for help. And it arrived en force.
Logan had the best care (Thank you Carrie, Carol, and Bonnie!) We
had muscle by the mile for picking up the heavy things and putting
them down (Thank you Bryan, Chris, and Nick, who, based on his
physical strength, has Oxen in his family tree!) Bryan and Terri shampooed our rugs. Terri scrubbed our toilets. like, chica, can I marry you? I've started seeing
my therapist again. I am also under the care of a healer (Thank you
David). I have no extra time or money, but I also have no choice.
Working with David is as emotional and energetic as it is physical.
I'm trying to make time to hang out with people more (Thank you
Christopher for participating in the “Get a mom out of the house
for a few hours” program) And thank you Duncan, my Love, for being
an amazing father to your boy and letting me disappear for hours at a
time when I thought I might be breaking.
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| First night in new bed |
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| Second night in new bed |
I am working on balance
and perspective, and getting to know me again. I have so much to be
grateful for. Life is a crazy fucked up beautiful mess, and I
wouldn't miss it for the world.
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