Pink Story: Head Talk

One of the phenomenons of a situation like this (cancer) rising in one’s life is that time slows down.  As one day passed to the next I was amazed that only a day had passed.  The days were long, full of the normal activities, but also full of the millions of thoughts and questions and attempts to control the thoughts and questions.  On top of everything, I was also in the waiting game.  

What would the genetic test show?  What kind of surgery would I need?  Would I need to order new boobs?  I was in a state of limbo wondering what the future held and not wanting to know at the same time.  Knowing could be a relief, a simple surgery. . . radiation. . . done.  Knowing could also mean turning the familiar in my life on its head.  If the test returned positive I would need to get a bilateral mastectomy.  That means they would remove both of my breasts completely.  Fortunately the insurance companies pay for reconstructive surgery, but that means two surgeries and I had heard some horror stories.  It may still be my skin, but it wouldn’t be the same.  I’m not saying that I would chose against the surgery because of a loss of my personal boobs.  I’m saying I realized that I would have to deal with the loss.  I would have to adjust and cope and mentally walk myself through the journey.  That scared me.  These thoughts never escaped me.  This mental argument and pro and con list never left my mind except while I was teaching.  

Teaching is such an all consuming task that takes every sense, thought, and physical ability that thinking about anything else will knock you out and create an opportunity for the students to trample all over you.  I thought my thoughts in the quiet of the bathroom, walking down the hall, sitting in my home in front of the fire with my coffee, lying in bed in the morning and in the evening, driving in my car, riding my bike, walking my dog, watching television, eating, all the time. . . except when I was teaching.  

These thoughts, this battle, this argument consumed my days and made them long.  The tasks of the day were extended by every thought of "what if?"  I knew that I should trust, I knew that it would be ok.  That knowledge didn’t stop the conversation in my head, that conversation made the days long.  And, strangely, I was thankful for the long days.  I was thankful that time didn’t fly, I was thankful to pass each day in a spiritual peace even if my mind fought it every step of the way.