October 4th, 2021...
I am trying to finish my final draft of Sorry.
A leaf blower, a chain saw, and my husband practicing on his drum set is perfect recipe of sonic chaos, inside of which I thrive. I don't know why it works for me, it just does. I do my best work under duress. This has always been true. I was formed in Chaos, and so befriended it, I suppose. I also like Alan Holdsworth's music. David calls it "boy music" - because it's so complex and violent and tangled. It calms my brain. Whatever works.
Right now, anything louder than the voice in my head is a good thing - because the voice in my head is a terrorist and shouts words like "cancer" and "mastectomy," words that make me want to retreat and collapse. No matter what happens Thursday - I must be strengthened, and honed, with pristine clarity. These wake up calls, I've had two of them now, will not be wasted. Heightened life is rare and fertile - I must plant NOW. It is the perfect time. Last year, between mammograms, I did math. My sister and I crunched financial scenarios until it became clear I could afford to retire. If I hadn't had that bad mammogram, I would probably still be working at GCC.
This year it's a double biopsy for something called, "a Distortion". Two of them. They looks like palm cactus - radiate out like a star or the sun. I hope it's nothing. Just dense breasts. Nothing spectacular at all. "Nothing to see here. Move along, move along."
Hopefully the only spectacular thing about Thursday will be Atavan and cupcakes. :D
Inside of this external chaos I write, plan, execute. It's all white noise to me. It reads as silence. I cannot imagine writing in actual silence. I wonder what that would be like? I wonder what I would write? If I could write?
These quick breaks from working on Sorry. to dump mind trash here, seem to help . . . Thank you.
Back to work...
Today,Tuesday, October 12th, 2021...
My life changed forever, today. I don't even know how to describe what is going on inside of me. This attempt to put into words what it feels like when a doctor tells you have a little bit of cancer, cannot succeed in doing anything but make me feel - what? What do I feel? I have no idea what I feel. I feel like this is not really happening. That this is surreal. Like I am watching myself go on and do things like it's a normal day as if if I do it will make that conversation a normal conversation and this thing that's happening to me a normal thing that happens to everyone. I feel like a terrible actor in some bad Hallmark movie . I can't connect to the words I'm saying or the thoughts I'm having. I can't feel. I'm like a machine. I can only do things.
The thought of what is about to happen to me - the disfigurement, the aging, the threat of an even worse cancer in my future.
We go along in life thinking we're going to live forever and we plan things, and save things we think we'll get to, things that mean something to have and suddenly when someone tells you there is an end date of sorts - not right now - but that this kind of cancer often signals a much worse cancer down the road - which means they will probably encourage a mastectomy - and back to the disfigurement conversation we go, right when I was just feeling good - like wow - maybe I actually can get my headshots done - I feel good - I look good - it's time! I should do that - and BAM! this happens. And everything grinds to a halt and my new job - I haven't even been retired a fucking year - becomes cancer care and recovery and prevention. Why couldn't this have happened when I was miserable and stuck at GCC and time away would have been a gift. ok well that's ridiculous - cancer is never a gift. But why NOW? Everything I've been ramping up for grinds to a halt and I've gotta try to fight fucking cancer?! I am so angry. My Mom is 92 almost 93 and both her daughters have had bouts with cancer?!
For the record here's what I now know - it's called LCIS - Lobular Carcinoma in Situ. It's rare - a sort of "pre-cancer" so small - less than 1mm - and "caught as early as you can catch it" and that being on hormones probably made it discoverable sooner - what does THAT mean? Grade 1. surgery. lumpectomy but "choices" will be discussed. I was only found in one of the biopsies - the furthest one from the nipple but they will remove both areas, discuss radiation.
That's all I know so far. Today.
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