You know what is weird? Walking around for 2 months with an
UUO (Unidentified Unknown-Impact Object; my made-up term of endearment) in your
breast. It’s not rare that you sometimes see things on a routine scan that are
troublesome, but then usually within about a week you are in for biopsy. So you
have about a week of stressing about something that could be absolutely
anything (as opposed to the stress of the known once you know biopsy results.
The stress is different). What is less rare is having a UUO for months on end. I’ve
had this UUO since August 10, and it’s nothing short of a weird and awkward
feeling (not physically, but emotionally). Now one would argue that if Lead
Plastic Surgeon was suspicious of malignancy, the biopsy would have already occurred
under emergency situations, so in that we may find implied comfort. But I am
here now to say that two months is too long. Not too long for the surgeon, but
too long for this blond 40 something introverted extroverted woman who carries
it around in her breast wondering what in the world it will be and what it may
bring.
It’s not that
I am not peaceful (I am), but rather it’s a distraction to an otherwise
stress-free zone. Ok, that’s a lie too. I’m not stress free by any means. I am
in end-of-life moments with my beloved, sort of faithful (always faithful to
Ron), cat who loves me conditionally (for food; unconditionally for Ron) and
has won a place in this heart of mine. I don’t have kids to distract this love.
So Oliver gets it all. I keep trying to resurrect him with serial lung taps (he
has fluid on his lungs, and we have tapped him 4 times now to see if the new medication was working. It's not. Each time the fluid has re-accumulated to 200-300 mls in just a few days). The fluid is winning and the
time is oh so near. This causes me stress. I know, Oliver is a cat, but he is
my cat, who quite frankly serves me better than some humans, so he matters. And
his dying matters. A dying beloved cat combined with a UUO I’ve been carrying
around for a few months, well it just makes the days a little “Off”. I dare not
mention the other routine things going on in life and even some of the
non-routine things like Ron being out of town a lot that has me off balance. You all have those same things. But they add
up when all placed in the very same bucket of life. I am peaceful (about the boob
anyway; I refuse to not be peaceful until I have a reason to not be peaceful),
but I am also “Off”. Off kilter. Off balanced. Off my A game. Off course. Off
emotions. At any given moment I am totally ok. Then the other
moments slide into view. They are short lived, but they happen. I’m sure you
can relate. It is totally realistic that we can be ok and still not be ok. It’s
this morphing of one into the other and then back again. And it’s fluid.
Sometimes it’s barely even noticeable, but it happens. Overall, we are ok, but
in any given hour of the day “not ok” may spill into our ok. And I see this
happen when you are waiting for biopsy to happen and then again afterwards
waiting for biopsy results. You will be ok, but you will also not be ok. (Having
fluid emotions does not negate Peace. It just makes it a sad peace. Or a happy
peace. Or a longing peace. Or an impatient peace. Or a lonely peace. We often
think peace means happy go lucky. We are wrong. Peace simply means we aren’t
afraid of the outcome and we know God’s plan will suffice for our lives. But we
still may have emotions around that and over time those emotions play.) Don’t
beat yourself up for having emotional moments. Instead, expect it.
Going back to my original point, it’s simply not normal to
have a UUO for any length of time. Get in, get it out and move on with whatever
you find. This “wayward” period of waiting it out is, now in hindsight, against
the norm and it creates some collateral fallout. Now I dare not say that maybe
God doesn’t have some yet-to-be-identified reason for this waiting, but it is a
little challenging on the one lying in wait. Even in the best of circumstances,
which I feel sure I surely must be in, there still is this inkling of “what if
it is malignancy?” And the waiting out of that leaves me slightly “Off”. Or
there is the chance this is a ruptured implant, so guess who would go to
surgery #7? Yeah, that would be me. And trust me, surgery #7 (or even #3-6) is most
certainly also going to be “Off”. It’s “Off” even to think about that
possibility of that. Then there is simply the fact that I am walking around
from meeting to meeting and from day to day with an actual nodule in my breast.
That simple fact alone causes your mind to focus. Or un-focus. Let’s just agree
it is a distraction. And it’s time for that distraction to be gone. It’s long
overdue in fact. So there is the other thing. Not only might you have fleeting moments
from ok to not ok, but you will also always be fully aware that you have a UUO
in your breast while you wait for biopsy. And two months is too long. Take the
very first appointment they offer you. Trust me on that. (I did take the first
appointment. This was truly an unusual circumstance that you, if ever in my
shoes, likely won’t repeat).
Dare say the rest of Sally would have less ebb and flow if
UUO was already taken care of? My emotions of potentially having to put Oliver
to sleep the same week as UUO biopsy would probably be a smidge less. Just a smidge,
but a smidge. And the biopsy itself may be a little easier to walk into would I
not be putting Oliver to sleep. One affects the other. Just like my awareness
of the storms from Hurricane Matthew would be a tad more easy to face and a little
less daunting if Ron were to be in town. My awareness of Ron being out of town
would be a little less aware were it not for Oliver dying. See, everything
impacts everything. We are stupid to think we can isolate off these little
sections of our life into little compartments. Everyone says don’t bring home
to work. Impossible! Don’t bring work to home. Impossible! Don’t let the stress
of your child being bullied affect your relationship with others. Impossible!
Don’t let your overwhelming struggles with infertility affect your interactions
with friends. Impossible! God didn’t create us to iso-late. He created us to re-late.
Relate can only happen when you live your life in the open with other people
(maybe a select group of people in certain scenarios). And relate can’t happen
to its fullest when we are compartmentalizing our worlds to death. I am a master
compartment-alizer. I work very hard to not let my worlds collide. But lately I
have been seeing the futility of that and the wasted energy it ensues. This UUO
is intended to change me as whole. The death of Oliver will impact me as a
whole. Walking out on the other side of chaos will mold me into a better whole.
And each of those influence the other, and I in turn am influenced as a whole.
So if I seem a little “Off”, rest assured, there is no shame
there. In times like these we need to remember that “Off” is always temporary. Maybe
“Off” is exactly where we need to be in order to create a new “On”. A better “On”, the “On” we have been waiting
our whole life for. UUO, I’m so glad you are here. You’ve grown me in ways I
actually can pinpoint and in ways that wouldn’t have happened with you. But I
won’t lie, your time is coming near. It’s time for us to start saying our
goodbyes. And I guess the same goes for you, Oliver. You stole my heart and made me a better whole.
(On Thursday, the surgeon will give me local anesthetic (what?!??),
he will make about a 1 inch incision into the breast and go in and cut out the
entire lump. He will then place some stitches and I will go home. Easy like Sunday
Morning. Stitches will come out in about 10 days. Now, it’s also not normal to
walk around with stitches in your breast, so I can’t say I am looking forward
to that, but alas it’s the means to an end. ((Seriously, picture that, walking
around discretely with stitches in your boob. Makes me chuckle.)) Then we will
await pathology results to come back in about 1 to 2 weeks. A whole different
kind of wait. So you might as well just stayed tuned).
