So, it was a week after the biopsy and I was feeling like being more mobile, had trouble lifting/raising my right arm there for several days but nothing I couldn't deal with. I finally couldn't put off going to the market any longer, so off I trundled to the store.
I found all the items on my list and went to the register to get in line for checkout. The lines were jammed, lots of afternoon shoppers. ( no matter what time of day I go, this always seems to be the case).
In front of me were two women, each had a cart heavy-loaded with groceries. One woman, a brunette, was already in line standing patiently waiting; the other, a blonde, came hurriedly at the brunette and pushed her cart, saying " I saw this spot first, you get OUT of my way!!". I was instantly alarmed, panicky-felt I should jump in and keep them from going at each other. I was all ready to yell "DON'T FIGHT! I HAVE CANCER!!!", then the two women started laughing, and I realized with a shock of reality they knew each other ---it was just a silly prank between friends.
My heart stopped pounding, slowed down and my Logical Left Brain Self asked me "Do you SEE what you were thinking? What kind of crazy person yells I HAVE CANCER to stop a fight?!?" I felt chagrined and deeply relieved I hadn't actually done it, even though I was nanoseconds away from making a total jerk of myself. I trudged to the truck deep in thought, mortified at what I'd nearly done and how it would've horrified those two women and probably everyone within earshot in that store.
There was a shopping cart next to my truck that some jackass had left, just waiting to be slammed into by another shopper trying to park. Dutifully, I pushed it to the cart bin with my "good arm" and the young man collecting the carts called out "THANK YOU, hardly anybody does that any more!" to me. I've never had that happen before, being thanked for putting a cart back. I thought this might be some peculiar sort of Karmic balance but I'm still not sure why his 'thank you' affected me.
On the drive home I tried to dissect what had caused me to feel that way, that I'd ever DARE utter such a thing out loud in public, "I have cancer!". The weight of Time pressing down on me? The weight of unsaid phrases and unspoken feelings?? Stifling my own grief and shock?? All the above?
I decided I'd make up booklets for my kids, print-outs that would help them wade through all the information flying at us. Breast Cancer has so many damned variables; if it was just one thing you could fight with one definitive treatment, we'd have eradicated it eons ago. I'm learning Breast Cancer is as individualized as your fingerprint; fighting it is strictly a custom-tailored dress, no off-the-rack one-size-fits-all stuff here.
So, after I got all my info together for my kid's booklets, off to the printer I went. They've printed my manuscripts, brochures & artwork, lots of print jobs over the years. A sweet brunette lady I'm always happy to see took the packet to make copies of. I stood at the counter as she sorted through it. I could see her reading the booklet. She laid it down on the copy machine and came back to the counter, leaning over, whispering " You have Cancer?" Her face was so troubled; it wasn't morbid curiosity. I swallowed hard and nodded my head yes. She looked around to make sure no one was watching and pulled her sweater neck off to her shoulder, showing me her PortaCath site. I immediately understood and ran around the counter to hug her tight; she hugged me back hard. I didn't care that people might think that was strange...she's a fellow traveler and with the type cancer she has, she has nowhere near the hope I do. I was astonished at her strength, that she was still working. She said she had to, to keep her insurance. My heart broke wide open; it was nearly impossible not to cry with her, had to blink hard to keep the tears from spilling.
She is terminal and she knows it.
I want that kind of grace, to just be and be in it ---without freaking out.
I left there thinking God is very, very sly, to give me such a graphic illustration of how to count my blessings... that there really are some blessings whether I can locate them in the moment or not.
Cancer brings out the best and worst in people---whether it's you or your loved ones or other people who have it.
I desperately intend it to bring out the best in me, too. I want to go through this with my Printer Lady's grace, with dignity. The spastic crying fits I have in five minute bursts late at night make me feel weak, but even as I say that I also realize there has to be some sort of outlet for all this grief, shock and fear, even if it's only five minutes of wild-animal keening. It feels like those five minutes are all I can allow, or I might lose control altogether.
My Printer Lady is a Throw-Down Woman, too.
God bless and keep her, all during her numbered days.
God is indeed very sly, Susi. When I woke up from lung cancer surgery on January 25, 2018, I thought it was a nightmare I was having. Went to sleep thinking the surgeon would take a wedge from my lower right lung. But woke up to find he had to take the whole lower right lobe. My next thought was how would my late son, Michael, have reacted to this news. Michael had Acute Lymphoid Leukemia in 2013. He was so calm. But I knew he was scared. I could feel it. Mothers feel what their children are suffering. Well, I wouldn’t know for three weeks if I needed radiation and/or chemo. I remained calm like he had. The doctors and nurses talked and finally left the room. When I was alone, I cried like a baby. Each person reacts differently. Hope to see you soon. ❤️
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