The "L" word

Racking your brains? Trying to figure out what the "L" word is? Well, I am fairly confident to say that probably none of you guessed it. The word is lump. More specifically a lump in a breast. Well no, even more specifically...a lump in my breast.

I went for my annual physical last week, and during the breast exam my doctor kept on touching the same area. She went back to it about three times. By that point I knew something was up. She said there was a lump and she wanted me to go for a breast ultrasound.

I need to fast forward to today before any of you go worrying. Its not a cancerous lump. Rather, a directionally-confused lymph node. Its on the outside of my breast, close-ish to my armpit, so it kind of makes sense that it is a lymph node. Still a little bit out the normal boundaries, but heck, I'll take a randomly placed lymph node any day.

I didn't tell very many people, mainly because I knew they would worry. I mean I worried, so of course other people are going to. But yeah, it was 5 days of way too much for my brain to process. Just trying to digest the potential of this terrible life-altering (possibly life-ending) thing. Basically the closest thing I have experienced to my life flashing before my eyes. As I said to one friend, it was a slap in the face with perspective.

What did I discover in those 5 days? Well, I'm not ready or OK with the thought of dying. Now let me clarify, I'm not scared of death or my final destination or what will happen to my body, but moreso, what will take place in my absence. Perhaps its the mother in me, but nope, I'm not ready to go. I have so much to see, to experience, so much more to give. So I spent a good portion of the weekend discovering that I am not at all OK with departing anytime soon.

I am eager to get to heaven one day and experience all that it has to offer, but the thought of leaving my little ones. My love. This life. Well, it breaks my heart. Not knowing the outcome, or having any say in it. Gosh, it kind of kills me. Control-freak much?

So yeah, a long five days. Having a child in the ICU is somewhat comparable. You have no control over the outcome. You have no idea what's ahead. Really, only the word 'helpless' comes to mind.

To be honest, one of my first reactions was..."No way, not me." I justified this by thinking I have a good, happy life. I'm fairly healthy. I mean perhaps I indulge a bit too much in chocolate. And hey, I like my coffee. But I mean come on, there are people way more overweight and way more unhealthy than me. Let the cancer get them. Horrible isn't it? My cousin put me in my place when she said, "Well, why not you?" She said the exact same thing when I was asking why Abbi's heart condition would "happen" to our family. Back to reality...

So then I realized. Cancer is no respecter of persons. No amount of money. Healthfulness. Beauty. Fame. None of it will save you from cancer. I'm sure money can increase your odds in many parts of the world, but it can't ensure you won't get it, and even sometimes, it can't even ensure you will survive it. I think of Patrick Swazye. He used to be quite the dreamboat back in his day. I grew up on Dirty Dancing. Literally. Seriously. "Nobody puts Baby in a corner." Sigh, dreamy. His fame, previous good looks, did not spare him. So really, who am I? Lance Armstrong. A fairly hot, buff, healthy dude. That didn't save him from getting it. No one is above cancer.

So yeah. The thing I realized is that its totally a club. Although, I think it should be renamed "The Lump Club." They already have t-shirts. Social events. Fundraisers. I mean The Weekend to End Breast Cancer does have a ring to it, but something like the "Lump Walk" would get more attention I say. Beyond the humour of it though, its not a club that anyone really wants to join. Ever. This morning when I left the clinic, there were about 8 women sitting in the waiting room. I left, relieved. Yet, how many of them did not? How many of them left with life-altering, earth-shaking news?

So as I walked to my car. I really was relieved. I truly was grateful. But I was also grieved. Thinking of all the women, and really, all the people affected by cancer. I spent 5 days of my life (thus far) worrying about it. While it was stressful and scary and horrible, its nothing in comparison.

So what did I learn? Well, I need to start doing self-checks. I have not done them yet. I don't know, 28 seems a little young to be worrying about such things. I know it happens, but I mean I was the youngest woman in the waiting room by 15-20 years. So perhaps the stress could have been avoided if I knew my body better. I'm not blaming myself. That's not it, but I do need to not leave the entirety of my health up to my doctor. I mean I'm fairly appalled that she gropes me for 10 minutes every year, but perhaps, just perhaps, if I did it 5 minutes a month, a little drama like this could be avoided in the future if I knew the 'ol girls a bit better.

So yeah. A crazy 5 days. But it also reminded me of the time we got the news that we were now in the "Parent's of a Heart-Baby Club." Yet, again, a club no one in their right mind ever wants to join. Not like membership is optional, its just thrown at you. We were given the following poem, and it sums up our experience with Abbi perfectly...and also made me think of the potential of joining the "Lump Club."

Welcome to Holland
by Emily Perl Kingsley

I am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child with disability - to try to help people who have not shared that unique experience to understand it, to imagine how it would feel. It's like this......

When you're going to have a baby, it's like planning a fabulous vacation trip - to Italy. You buy a bunch of guide books and make your wonderful plans. The Coliseum. The Michelangelo David. The gondolas in Venice. You may learn some handy phrases in Italian. It's all very exciting.

After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack your bags and off you go. Several hours later, the plane lands. The stewardess comes in and says, "Welcome to Holland."

"Holland?!?" you say. "What do you mean Holland?? I signed up for Italy! I'm supposed to be in Italy. All my life I've dreamed of going to Italy."

But there's been a change in the flight plan. They've landed in Holland and there you must stay.

The important thing is that they haven't taken you to a horrible, disgusting, filthy place, full of pestilence, famine and disease. It's just a different place.

So you must go out and buy new guide books. And you must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you would never have met.

It’s just a different place. It's slower-paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy. But after you've been there for a while and you catch your breath, you look around.... and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills....and Holland has tulips. Holland even has Rembrandts.

But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy... and they're all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of your life, you will say "Yes, that's where I was supposed to go. That's what I had planned."

And the pain of that will never, ever, ever, ever go away...because the loss of that dream is a very very significant loss.

But... if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn't get to Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things ... about Holland.