Storm

My phone rang at 9:30 this morning.

“Good morning. Is this a good time? ”

“I guess.”

From the caller ID I knew where this woman was calling from and why she was calling.

“We have the results of your biopsy from Monday.”

“Poorly differentiated carcinoma.” **

“Thoracic will be calling you for appointment.”

What an awful job this poor woman has.

I can’t breathe.

I hung up the phone, grabbed my keys and left the house.

Driving down a familiar street, I saw a woman playing Frisbee with her dog in their front yard.   Is there any more rapturous sight than a dog running and leaping into the air?

At yoga class, we did lots of open-up-the-chest-and-rib-spaces movements. I swear every time the instructor said,  “Breathe in, open up the lobes of the lungs,” my poorly differentiated carcinoma lit up like ET’s heartlight, eager, defiant, and ready to differentiate itself.  By breathing so deeply was I providing nourishment so this little bastard could get bigger, stronger?

In the white space between the lines of this post is a storm.  Can you feel it?   Probably not.  It is huge and dark – a violent, roiling, churning monster waiting to take me under.   I am alone and frightened in the vast, deep water.   But I am an excellent swimmer.  I will ride out the waves and swim where I can, as long as I can, until I am too tired to go on.

I will pick up my grandson from school, we will have a snack of Newman’s Own Cookies and play ‘Mater and Lightning McQueen with his Cars play set.  I get to be ‘Mater.  I love being ‘Mater.

I will breathe.

** poorly differentiated carcinoma

Two Things

  • every single one of Mary Oliver’s poems
  • birthday cakes with white icing

19 Replies to “Storm”

  1. I’ve been there. It’s a roller coaster from start to finish. For me at 12 years out, I don’t feel finished although I’ve been clear for years. One good thing is that the treatment has improved substantially. More options and more humane (if I can say that). I wish you the best on your journey and keep us posted..

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you, Kate. That means so much. I was reluctant to write this post, but I’m glad I did. I hope we can email and you’ll share your journey with me, as much as you’re willing.

      Like

      1. Consider reading the cancer series from the blogsite geezersister.com. Ruth Pennepacker did several stories on her experiences that I wish I had read when I was going through it. Ruth is a humorous author but her personal stories were touching.

        Liked by 1 person

  2. I am moved to tears at your apt description of yoga and feeling as if you’re nurturing the CANCER. I have to stop and think, and then I remember, I have lung cancer. And I think of “Alien” with Sigourney Weaver…I’m harboring a MONSTER!!! And I don’t know if it will consume me or destroy me…
    Your poem was beautiful, lyrical, and heartbreaking . You give me strength 🙏🏼. We can beat CANCER!!

    Liked by 1 person

I love comments! Leave one.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s