Got Screened?

The screenings don't get easier.  My oncology team recommended additional screening in between my mammograms so every 6 months I'll have imaging.  I understand the necessity, but the days leading up to my tests plague me with anxiety, nearly like the kind I felt the night before infusions when I'd be a crying mess at the dinner table.

It's the fear of the unknown, the "what ifs."  What if they find something?  What if the cancer comes back?  What if I have to endure chemo again?  What if... That fear can almost be debilitating.

It doesn't stop me, though.  I never miss my appointments.  I know how important they are, not only for me, but for my family.

I had my first breast MRI a few weeks ago.  If you don't know how breasts MRIs are done, neither did I until it was being explained to me.  You lie flat on your stomach with your breasts hanging down and arms straight up.  The IV didn't bother me.  (Sadly, I'm so used to needles by now).  The prep didn't bother me.  The temperature in the room didn't bother me.  It wasn't until I was in the machine with all the clamoring and beeping that I started to feel panicked and had to take deep breaths (moving as little as possible) to calm myself down.  And afterwards, I felt woozy because I hadn't been able to eat a meal all day because of the nerves.

Minutes later, I had my results: Normal.  No evidence of breast malignancy.

I could breathe again... at least, for another 6 months.

Get those screenings and do those self-exams!  They could save your life.

Timely

"Timely"

Thanksgiving 2023

 

Time is elusive.  We go about our every days in measurable ways – getting the kids off to school, our 9-5s, appointments, dinner, lessons, bedtime, prep for the following day.  Our weekends are packed full of activities.  We find ourselves rushing from one thing/place to the next, and then impossibly the season has changed again, my son has somehow grown out of everything, and my daughter is talking animatedly about the origins of Thanksgiving and how it can be a painful reminder for many Native Americans... so is it okay to celebrate?  [Insert mind blown emoji].  The kids keep growing up and outwards.  We keep moving forward and onwards.  The cycle continues.

 

We may not realize that any of it, or all of it, can be like balancing on a tight rope.

 

I’ve always taken pride in being a working mom; I loved my job, I loved being a leader.  I constantly strived to find ways to become even more efficient with snippets of time throughout a day.  I continually sacrificed sleep and my health at times because I’m a giver – as with anything I set my mind to, I gave it my all.  Work was no exception; I would often be responding to e-mails or messages late into the night or pre-dawn hours, on-call and available whenever I was needed despite having young children or going to grad school or being diagnosed with cancer and undergoing treatments.  Despite those incredibly rough pandemic years.  I was there.  And because it never quite felt like there was enough time, I didn't waste any.

And then one day… I lost my job of 11 years.  It was unexpected and scary, and it hurt, a lot.  It was humbling.  It felt a little like time stood still for a moment.  Everything I once knew, over a decade of our practiced routine, that fragile balance, had toppled over, and I was falling.  There was no safety net to be found.

 

When I found my footing though, I realized, suddenly and remarkably… I was blessed with time.

 

This was an opportunity to decide how to spend my days.  Where to focus my energy.  Truly think about what I want to do long-term.  Tackle projects at home.  Share my talents volunteering.  Ask myself some tough questions about how to be a better partner and supportive wife, daughter, and sister.  And realizing what could wait.

 

This year, I’m grateful for the beauty of nature.  For long walks and companionship, leisurely visits with family.  For extra snuggles and sleeping in.  I’m thankful to be able to attend the kids’ school events and serve on committees, to volunteer at the food pantry, to help organize at church.  I’m enjoying untimed conversations, checking in with friends old and new, sending surprise care packages “just because,” honoring people we’ve lost this year in special ways.  I’m learning to give more while being okay with letting go.  I’m decidedly present, and here, and still have not wasted a minute.  I’m savoring time.

 

I’m savoring momma and daughter dates to an amusement park, art class, or show.  I look forward to daycare pick up when my sweet boy runs across the field into my arms shrieking “Mommy!” with delight; when he holds my face in his hands and tells me I’m “so pretty” and “the best momma in the world.”  I enjoy listening to my bright girl read the elaborate stories she’s written and responding to her rapid-fire questions when she’s curious about a new topic.  I have fun teaching little man to do chores and to dress himself and cheering him on when he gets it just right (on his terms, not mine).  That nagging mom guilt for having to divide my time?  It’s dissipated – I’m all in.

 

It's temporary, I know… but for now, I’ll take it.  I’ll recognize and cherish it for the gift that it is.  I’ll soak up the moments.  I’ll listen for the sounds of my rowdy family gathering at my parents’ house and the side conversations at the ever-growing kids’ table.  I’ll marvel at how we’ll barely make a dent in our traditional-American-meets-Chinese feast.  I’ll catch up with my cousins as we watch our own kids and their cousins play, the volume crescendo-ing usually after they’ve had a taste (or three) of dessert.  And I’ll be so grateful – for togetherness, for family, for time.  For an amazing husband who assured me it would be okay and encouraged me to take the break.  

 

I’m thankful for being given a different lens and a way to refocus.  For the not knowing, and for the finding me, again.