June 8, 2010
Sometimes, my life’s path seems clear and tidy where everything is kept in balance – and those are good times. In the recent weeks, my way has gotten unclear and not at all tidy. I seem to be stumbling into dark passages where there are many rocks and pitfalls. Last week, I got caught up in a drug supply confusion that meant I was given a different medication which in turn caused a side trip into a very unpleasant place where I felt like I was swimming underwater, near the surface, but unable to break through to where I might think and breathe properly. I believe that at some point in the supply chain a wrong number, or perhaps a miss-typed word combined with the anticipation and celebration of the Memorial Day weekend contrived to make the good and useful meds unavailable for a time. Now all is in order again and I have returned to somewhat better days.
Since I have been losing energy, I have not been “out and about” very much. Last Friday however, Charles had a wedding rehearsal at First Church in the early evening, and the timing seemed perfect for me to go along and have a small shopping adventure in the meantime. I needed some new bras and one department store carries the brand I prefer, so this would work out very well.
I arrived at the lingerie department, and a formidably built young woman hurried to assist me. She wore a pin with “Lingerie Consultant” printed on it. I asked where to find the brand I sought, and as she led the way, I said that I had lost some weight, and therefore needed to find a different size. She turned to me and said very eagerly, “You lost weight?? Oh, that’s sooo wonderful! I’m trying to loose some weight, too. What diet are you on?” I didn’t reply immediately and she went on, “Oh c’mon, you can tell me. . .” so I said, “I have terminal cancer. It causes weight loss.” She beamed. “Ohhh, breast cancer!! Is it breast cancer??” I looked at my watch, thinking that if I could just last a few more minutes I would make my purchases and escape. I was already certain never to return. “No, not breast cancer” I said. More delighted beaming and “Ohhhh! You’re in remission! I think that’s SO great! Now, what size bra are you? I really know my way around cup sizes!” She suddenly turned to face me and said, “Do you know, I’ve had two breast reductions? TWO!” Now she was looking at me expectantly, and I realized that I was to say something. I had unwittingly stepped onto a stage where I was playing a part for which I had never rehearsed, and I was flummoxed. When one does not have proper energy, the world is a harder place to navigate, though this incredibly clueless woman would have been a challenge for anyone. Here was an amazingly ample bosom thrust in front of me, and I finally produced the words, “You do appear to be proportioned correctly.” In the few moments for her to conclude that she had not been insulted, I spotted what I needed, grabbed it and began to hurry to the check-out desk. She called after me, “Remission!! You’re so lucky, remission from breast cancer!”
I returned to the car and just sat there, exhausted. The next day I related the story to a gathering of women friends, and in the telling, realized that this held all the elements of a perfect comedy sketch. We could bond in our common experience of our culture’s obsession with diet and body shape, and the peculiar elements contained within the encounter had all of us laughing to the point of tears. Being female at this time in history means that the constant barrage of “imperfectly shaped bodies” invades every mind and few of us can stand in front of a mirror and see an entirely pleasing image there. Talking about the clueless and potentially ghastly take on cancer and considering the responses one might have given made it a moment of high humor, and the laughter and stories that were generated more than compensated for the actual event.
June days are abundant as every growing thing responds to rains and flings out new and bigger leaves, branches, and flowers. I think about “life”. Another day with a daybreak and a set number of hours ahead in which one will experience what one has determined should take place. So many things that had a meaning to me (i.e., food, thinking about it, cooking, baking, planning with great pleasure for events of sharing meals with friends, or travel, or shopping, or lunching out with a friend, or having the energy to garden, etc.) are no longer in place and therefore, what is “life” now? I sleep a lot and tomorrow I will likely pursue a blood transfusion in the hopes of having an energy boost before next week’s visit of grandchildren. I think one can consider another day of existence as a gift, as time to pass, or as a burden. As a child of God, wife to splendid Charles and mother/grand to a gathering of special people, and a companion to Alphie who is waiting for me in delighted anticipation of his walk around Sanctuary, I have to say “gift”. Once that determination is made, then the day will follow and there will be laughter and it will be all right.
In the King James’ translation, Psalm 118 opens and ends with “O give thanks unto the Lord, for he is good, for his mercy endureth for ever” and within the psalm is verse 24: “This is the day which the Lord hath made; we will rejoice and be glad in it.” So we shall, and I hope that the days are gifts of life for all of you, too.