like a diamond ...: morning meditation (counting down)

Tuesday, December 4, 2007

morning meditation (counting down)

Sometimes I wish that rather than having this extra time before surgery to “process”, I could go ahead and just get it over with.

There is something hanging over these days – an anticipation, a dread, a fear – that is always with me.

I know that it is way out of proportion, but I compare it with how a condemned man must feel when he knows his execution date and time. I watch the calendar, and know that the time is counting down.

I think of the soldiers and civilians who are wounded in war, and then carry and live with their wounds all of their lives.

I wonder about physical woundedness. And yet here I am whole, seemingly healthy, with a body that I mostly love and cherish.

like a diamond ...

Before the mastectomy, I saw an MRI image of my invasive breast cancer on a computer screen. This was the day before they did the MRI-guided biopsy. There was nothing vague about it – it looked clear and defined, bright and shiny – like a diamond. When I saw it, I did not know that it was cancer, and I asked the Dr. what else it could be. Oh, a density of fibrous tissue or something, he said. All I knew was that it was different from everything around it, and I have come to trust that my breast cancer is, indeed, some kind of treasure.

Though I write honestly, and sometimes perhaps flippantly and cynically, about my experiences with breast cancer and the medical system, I mean no disrespect to the professionals who treat me. I am incredibly grateful for their knowledge and skills, their very hands(!) – and I am humbled by the way they dedicate their lives (and days and nights) to the health and care of our bodies (my body!). The personalities of my doctors and their assistants, with all of their human variations, truly do bless and charm me.