The good news is in and I’ll start with it. I have my pathology report and it looks like everything is good. No evidence of invasive carcinoma! Woo hoo!! I go for my official follow up tomorrow but at least I know that I don’t have cancer.
The bad news is that I have moved on to the next phase of healing. That sounds like it shouldn’t be bad news but I think that depends on your understanding of healing from surgical procedures. After the pain, the next phase in healing a wound may include itching. Have you ever had an itch you couldn’t scratch? Well, I do. And it’s seriously in a place that scratching is highly discouraged. But, I didn’t have to have anyone verbally discourage me from scratching that itch.
The next phase, however, also includes getting back to regular life. Today, that meant wearing a sweater that was the gift that kept on giving. I bought this thing back in the late part of summer because it was so super soft, it was on sale, and I loved the colors. It’s a pretty plaid with blue, orange, rust, and a beautiful blend of the best of fall colors. When I bought it, I didn’t know that it was the sacrificial fur of 150 llamas. (Not really, it’s polyester.) The sweater was disintegrating all day and little poofs of fur-like polyester was floating in my office, as well as everywhere I walked, all day long. I stood in front of a group of new employees and delivered a presentation with this “fur” on my pants. When I say this was on my pants, I mean it looked like I’d been wrestling with the llamas. The worst part? No one even told me.
I kept sneezing and the woman across the hall from my office kept sneezing. I kept apologizing because I knew the “fur” had gotten in her nose. It had gotten in mine and I had a sneeze-a-thon after sitting back at my desk. I do not understand how something like this could be sold. The thing wasn’t exactly cheap and if I’d known it was going to be constantly falling apart, I think I would have left it in the store. It was so soft, though. With it’s blanket-like softness, I thought it would be perfect on the cold mornings to keep me warm. I didn’t realize that the warmth would be from constantly trying to lint roll my clothing and chase down fur poofs. As I was getting into my car to go home, the fur was floating in the air like suspended snowflakes and as I shut my door, one swirled in the air then on to the car next to me. Today was not a day for me to commit crime.
But this is real life and as crazy as it can get, I love it. My mind isn’t thinking of the “what if’s” of a life-altering illness. I’m focused on the mundane, the normal, the chaos of regular life. And I’m ever so grateful. This next phase, even with its uncomfortable itching and poofs of unnatural fur, is the beginning of the best. There is so much more I want to do and to accomplish. I want to finish my book instead of having the file stare back it me with judging disapproval when I don’t open it to work on it. I can’t keep putting it off. One day, the sand will run out and I worried this most recent scare was proof that it could happen sooner rather than later. For now, I’ve been given more time to chase the fur poofs and find ways to scratch without scratching an impossible itch. And, I couldn’t ask for more.
Messpot Diaries 