So delicate a reflection of

The soul

Love, the mere act

To love with a fierceness

So unlike that of my emotions

Love, the necessary element

Missing from many

Yet with so many holding on

To give theirs to someone worthy

Love, if it will come to me

Will be kept warm

Will be kept safe and protected

From the monsters

That hide under the bed

The registration process to receive care from CHAP required me to bring in a picture ID, proof of address and, in my case, medical records and my pathology and ultrasound report. I needed to fill out some paperwork and after they looked everything over they accepted me into the program. The benefit of having somewhere to go if I need antibiotics, have a toothache, or if I just don’t feel good far outweigh my initial reaction to turn up my nose to a free clinic. Honestly, I am grateful to have somewhere to go, but knowing I have something more serious than a cold and I am putting my life in the hands of physician assistants makes me a little nervous as well as my experience of free clinics have left little to be desired, have been mostly over crowded, dirty, and the wait to be seen can reach 3 hours, so when I walked into CHAP and noticed none of those things, and I got efficient and extremely awesome care from everyone I made contact with, I was beyond relieved. I like to think God has his hands in every aspect of my life, including reminding me that a closed mind is not a good thing to have. In this instance He did just that as well as reestablishing my faith in the human race. Hey, I’m a Christian, not God, and I have many MANY issues that need to be dealt with.

Getting back to the issue at hand, I was accepted and I saw a physician’s assistant who listened patiently while I told her about my diagnoses. She looked over the records I provided and, without batting an eye, she told me she was going to help me get my surgery. Her only concern was the location that would be providing the surgery, which happens to be County USC Medical Center Hospital, a place riddled with mess-ups, malpractice, and unexplained deaths. Now, it was not me giving her the look of well deserved fear when she mentioned the location, it was her giving me an apologetic look, along with her apologies. It’s the only place she can send me, she says, unless another place she knows of takes heart of my situation and offers to help me with a better known facility. Right now I wait word from the other place, which reminds me I need to call her as she wanted me to do a 2 week followup appointment and it’s now going on 3 weeks. Argh, my brain!

So that is where everything sits at the moment. I have faith it will all work out, and I will continue to keep y’all informed as I go through this journey. Thanks for reading.

Mammogram day I took my boyfriend with me. He wanted to be there because he was concerned but I think I took him more for emotional support than anything. It was routine pretty much. They did the mammogram and, because I had an obvious lump, they did an ultrasound. I’ve had lumps that needed ultrasounds before but because this one hurt I was concerned. Checking my right breast they found that the lump there was just a fibroid and nothing to worry about. They called it Fibrocystic Breast Condition, which is common in women my age and thankfully they’re almost always benign. That was great news and I was relieved. I asked to see it (I’m weird like that) and the technician humored me. Yes it was what I’ve seen before. It looked like another one I had the year before so I was breathing a sigh of relief, but then they told me they needed to ultrasound my left breast as well. I didn’t have any issues with my left breast so I questioned the necessity of the ultrasound and that was when the technician told me about my mammogram. She said they found a couple of small lesions in that breast and they concerned the doctor so they wanted a better look. Great.

The ultrasound on my left breast seemed to take forever. I’d say it was somewhere around 30 or 40 minutes, whereas the right breast ultrasound only took 7-8 minutes. Saying I was getting nervous is an understatement. I asked to see this one since it was starting to freak me out and this time the technician wasn’t as quick to humor me. She was completely focused on one particular area and my request seemed to fall on deaf ears. Finally she finished and told me she was going to show the doctor my ultrasound and she’d be back in a few minutes. Five minutes went by, then eight, then ten. I counted the tiles on the ceiling, got off the table and sat on the chair. I was getting pretty restless when the door popped open and the doctor came in. She walked right up to me and grabbed both my hands. Oh crap, I thought to myself. Something isn’t right.

The doctor looked me in the eyes and told me that there were some lesions they checked out that looked questionable and they wanted a biopsy on one in particular. Biopsy. I don’t like that word. I liked it even worse because of the way things were going down in that there room. I’ve never seen the doctor after having an ultrasound. All my cysts have been benign and they’re so obvious most of the time the doctor doesn’t even bat an eye, but this time having her there, holding my hands. Well, it scared me. That’s the truth.

The doctor asked me if I wanted to do the biopsy right then and there or if I wanted to wait for the next day. Heck, I was already half dressed and there. I told her let’s do it now and get it over with. She was happy I made that decision and made a mad dash out to grab her torture tools. Meanwhile the technician offered me some water. I think she could tell my mouth was dry. I’m sure she’s seen her share of these moments and she was just the perfect woman for this job as she was extremely gentle and caring.

The doc came in with her tools. She showed me two needles. One for a numbing shot and the other, the big ginormous needle, was my biopsy needle. It was huge and intimidating so I tried to ignore it. They did the biopsy while using the ultrasound machine so the doctor could see where she was going, this was when I finally got to see. In all of my years of having cysts and ultrasounds I’ve never seen one that looked like this. It reminded me of a crater on the moon but it was a protrusion and not a hole, and it wasn’t very “nice” looking. It was kinda scary looking to be perfectly honest.

She took 5 samples of it to biopsy and when she was done she injected a little thing she called a flag (it was more like a tiny chip) next to the cyst for “future” studies of this damn thing. I was sent for another mammogram, which by this time I was so hungry I asked if I really needed to be there for the results of that one. They told me they’d either call me the next day or I could call them after 3 for the results and I was told I could leave and leave I did. What an emotional and crappy day that was.

The next day I didn’t hear anything so I called them myself. I got the results, the tissue they took was benign but the cyst they discovered was pre-cancerous, known to turn into cancer and I need it yanked out. I asked if I could keep it in and the doc told me no, it needs to come out, plain and simple.

Three days before my scheduled appointment to see the surgeon I received my court signed documents telling me I was officially divorced. My insurance was cool up to that point. After the divorce was official my insurance went out the window. Trying to not freak out, since I now have this growth that needs to be removed and I will no longer be able to rely on my insurance to cover the cost, I looked into Cobra. I’ll receive some information for that in the mail any day now…unfortunately I won’t be able to afford it. My trust in God is being tested.

My regular doctor called to see what was going on with my surgery and I let her know my insurance information. Her assistant referred me to a place in Pasadena called The CHAP clinic, she also forwarded my plight to an on-sight social worker who, just today, emailed me some numbers to call for some sort of assistance. That everyone is scrambling to help me get this taken out has made me realize the seriousness of this, but what got me the most was what the social worker said in his voice message to me. “I’m going to email you some information for financial assistance for your cancer treatment”. Okay, he used the C word. Was it a fluke? Does he know something I don’t?

For what it’s worth, the stress level this is giving me isn’t helping me at all. I have friends who have cancer, have had cancer, have had cancer scares. My most valuable resource are those who are currently fighting it off. Their grace throughout all of it makes them my heroes. I may be looking fate right in the eyeballs, or I may not be. It’s a matter of time before I know exactly what I’m dealing with. Until then all I can do is trust that my God’s got this. And to be clear, if it’s cancer that takes my life it’s not because God didn’t answer my prayers, it will just be that cancer was my destiny.

Randy has been my rock through all of this. He’s positive and he’s willing to do whatever he can to see me through it regardless what it turns out to be. I love that he cares so much and I am beyond blessed to have him in my life.

I will be making a few calls this week to see what my options are as far as getting this yuck taken out and I’m going to try to maintain an ongoing blog about it, the steps I’ll be taking for assistance, the people put into place that will help me along the way, my surgery, the followups and the final diagnosis once the entire thing has been biopsied. This will be for anyone who may find themselves put in a similar situation. Perhaps it can help them. Knowing your options is always a good thing, right?

Now I find myself thinking of the doughnut I want to inhale and the nap I want to take with my honey. Thanks for reading my blog and may the rest of your weekend be as awesome as life itself.

I managed to wait patiently for her to come back into my apartment and approached her about what exactly it was she was trying to do with my neighbor when she got close to me, made a scratching motion towards my face and said, “What is that? Let me scratch that off. You’re too dark. It doesn’t look good.”

Normally this would not have an impact on most 45 year old daughters of mothers who are becoming senile by the day, however this isn’t the first opportunity she’s had to throw insults my way about my coloring (mind you I’m almost the same hue as she with a bit more emphasis on the dark side because of my maternal great-grandmother’s Yaqui bloodline when I tan), no, in fact she’s made comments about my skin color for as long as I can remember, but never has she sneered like she did Monday, with her nails imitating a scratching motion towards my face, and never before did her comments feel as if they ripped my soul to shreds and made me feel so damn ugly.

I told her that this is who I am, I am dark, not light. I think I rose my voice a bit, and I know it was shaking as I was hurt to my core. It still hurts 3 days later, shoot. I looked at Randy and I’m sure I looked hurt or he just reads me well, and he walked up to me, told me he thinks I’m beautiful and gave me a hug. That was very nice and it almost did what it was supposed to do, help me get over the hurt, but damn if I couldn’t shake my mom’s hurtful insult and I went to the bathroom and cried. This got me thinking…

I wondered how often and to what extent, if any, of damage I have ever done to any of my children with my words. My idea of a parent is that they’re supposed to hold up their children’s confidence with kind and positive words, pointing out the good in them, keeping them feeling safe and unified in the family. Insults should be kept at a non-existent level, in other words, they should just not be said, and if there are issues or conflicts these should be dealt with in an open and honest dialog. Of course, this is my opinion and my children and my relationship hasn’t been perfect, but I know I’d never make reference to any of their skin tone (something they can’t change unless they’re Michael Jackson haha) unless I was pointing out how porcelain-like and perfect it is. Why my mother feels the need to constantly badger me about my skin tone is beyond me. Why she can’t get it through her head that her insults have done a ton of damage to my ego since I was a child is beyond me. Do I need to be tougher? Yes, unfortunately. Why I need to be tough in order to handle my own mother’s insults is wrong and should never be necessary but it is. What a crock of crap to have to deal with.

Now I’m off to cut the mean woman’s toenails because I’m a loving stupid daughter. I hope all who read this, all you parents out there, stop and think about the words you’re tossing at your children and remember that they have feelings and mean words hurt.

Nevertheless, as I was throwing some of the fruit in the trash, I discovered a banana that was mushy but not quite “bad”. I mean, there wasn’t mold growing out of it or anything. Yeah, there were little fruit gnats flying around it, but it still maintained it’s normal color, so I offered it to my son. He wanted no part of it and asked if I was trying to poison him. Remind me again why we have children if it’s not to ultimately end our lives in a mental hospital.

I told him I wasn’t trying to poison him and I explained that it wasn’t rotten, no no, it was just very very ripe, and good for him, after all humans need a good supply of potassium in their bodies on a daily basis, and the best banana is a brown banana….why doesn’t he know this already? He told me if it was that good for a body then perhaps I should eat it myself. “I, um…well I don’t want to eat it because it’s too mushy for my liking”, I told him. He countered with the same reason for not wanting it himself. Ugh. Then a really cool idea entered my head. Normally when I have a really cool idea it involves cooking or baking, and that’s exactly where I was going with this idea. Frozen banana-strawberry slushies was what I was thinking, so I threw it into the freezer. Frozen banana-strawberry slushies sounds good, right? Not only did it sound good but I was able to save a piece of fruit from the trash, I was being frugal, a good trait so I hear. Well…

I’m sure it would have been delicious within a reasonable amount of time, but three months later (last week) I found it in my freezer as hard as a rock. The skin looked as if it was crystallized. There was no way we could use that thing so I threw it in the trash and realized I had not saved it after all. It ended up in the exact place I tried in vain to keep it from. There’s a learning lesson somewhere in all of this and I think I know what it is. I will never freeze a banana.

My hands. My hands are moving without my notice
rubbing together over and over as if to feel
or to remind myself that I exist

My eyes are trying to focus
through the tears
I can’t see
My mouth is dry

Everything my body is doing is for
survival.
Like a fish out of water
I find I can’t catch my breath

I am trying to take in the words
that’s it’s over
It’s over?
He says it is
Can’t take the thoughts
Can’t make them stop

But they’re untruths
I plead
Show me proof
Something to hold onto
Something that shows I have done
the ultimate betrayal

There are no words I can say
that will change his mind
No words that console

The thought of an end
before a beginning is ironic
for the life of a woman
who feels as if she’s escaped her own mental death
previous to this

Gently gathering my thoughts
and my pleads
that seem to litter the floor of my mind
I realize I have become alone
again.

See, this past year I had noticed I lost my “voice”. I actually went through some of my past blogs and seriously didn’t even recognize the person who wrote them. That’s when it dawned on me and, although it irritated me because I had so many things I’d shared, it also was an indication that I have grown, or morphed, and hopefully for the best. We shall see. I will attempt to find my voice tonight. The house is quiet, the kiddo is quietly playing video games, my mom is fast asleep, music is playing, tea is hot, Ding Dong is settled in my stomach, and life is good. Can you hear the quiet? I can, and I love it very much. Hopefully that quiet will simmer down the ever so overwhelming thoughts that plague me throughout the day, especially as of late, long enough to articulate some very fun and super exciting news that’s been going on in my life since I left my ex.

I have so much to share I don’t even know where to start. I suppose I could start where I left off. If memory serves right, I was attending a pretty cool church and trying to date an ex-boyfriend. As of today, the ex-boyfriend is no longer in the picture. No, well…..he just didn’t work out. There wasn’t the same goal going on there and we weren’t looking in the same direction. My path with God turned some things awry, things he couldn’t understand, and it was just better to end things when we ended them. Oh, and to those romantics of this world, here’s word to the wise: ex-boyfriends are ex-boyfriends for a reason. We should all just leave well enough alone in that department. Let it go, let him go, forget his name, blah blah blah. You get the picture. It’s a fatal mistake, I don’t care how many love stories you’ve heard about, they’re all lies and silly Cinderella dreams you want to wish into existence. They are dreams and memories. Leave them as such for your own sake….I’m begging you.

The break up was hard for us both. I am such a sucker sometimes, and I want so badly to believe that people really aren’t as awful as they act. Maybe it was the lure of his outgoing nature that kept me hoping, maybe it was just that our fun time together was so awesome. At a point in our “thing” I had mentioned that we needed to be friends and go from there. A relationship doesn’t work unless there’s a friendship within it, and I wanted to be his friend and not his lover. It just didn’t go with my God walk. I dunno. I do know that friendship wasn’t even a possibility to him. He wanted me to be his and his only, no room for friendship, unfortunately too. Sometimes I miss doing all the cool things we did together. Bowling, golf, tennis, sucking people into our world and then just walking away leaving them feeling as if they had just been on the most exhilarating roller coaster ever (haha). I can miss those things, it’s normal human behavior after all, but I can’t sit in that place.

I truly believe God is working in and on my life, and just as soon as I had broken up one relationship, thinking to myself that I was just going to live and let live, do my thing, be a single woman, in stepped a beautiful and charming, and ever so awesome man named Randy. I was instantly stunned into a stupor and taken so intensely into a world full of God, long conversations, honesty, and devotion, that I was smitten and found myself falling into a love that was far beyond any love that I had ever experienced in my life. Our love is based in and of God. It came from God, there’s no other way of putting it. It’s as if Randy was built exactly to my qualifications. I have always imagined my life with a man who was as on fire and as devoted to God as I, and with the ability to make me feel singled out and important, listened to, like nobody mattered more than me. Randy is that man. How did that happen? I have no frickin idea, but it did and I am loving every single minute of it.

Randy not only is devoted to God, but he is tender and gentle. He writes sweet love things to me each day, and sometimes I get messages from him throughout the day. I love it! He’s just “that guy”. He’s also so much like me it’s crazy. His energy is contagious, he’s funny as all hell, he loves his children like a father should and talks about them with such emotion. It’s refreshing to have someone like that in my life.

Of course, we have dealt with all the normal “of this world” stuff that is sometimes hard to absorb and get over. We are human somewhere in our nooks and cranny’s when we’re not focusing on God. Fortunately, when we get too human, we reel each other back to the safe place – under the umbrella of God’s glory. So awesome!!

We have one glitch and one glitch only – we’re 3000 miles apart. This glitch will be taken care of within the next month. I’m planning on moving my family to where he is and starting a life with him. Scary? You bet your butt it’s scary, but it’s also exciting and so out of the box that it adds a touch of motion picture ambiance to it. I’m sure all of my friends think I’m ab-so-lute-ly insane, but they haven’t mentioned one peep about it. Why? I think it’s because they secretly are hoping that this works and it will restore their faith in love. It’s a love story, right? Yeah…I agree.

Currently, we’re looking for places big enough to fit us, and close enough to the things that help us continue our life in a forward motion and that will make us all happy. He needs to be close to the university, I need to be close to the ocean, mom needs to be able to walk outside unassisted and enjoy the world. I’m still waiting on word from my son, if he’s coming or not, but I’m praying that he will choose to go and start his life with me, all over and brand new. It would be one of the most awesome experiences of his life and one he will always reflect on as a benefit to his life. God’s got it, I’m sure of that. I know God’s got it because He’s my God. Do I hear an Amen?

Phew! I suppose that will be enough for tonight. I am pooped. I need sleep. I need hugs and kisses but that will have to wait for now. I’ll continue this perhaps tomorrow, once I’ve gotten some much needed sleep. My lack of sleep is an entirely new blog to be. Let’s just say that sons are put on this earth to drive us bananas.

Now to publish. I’ve read this twice and from what I can tell, my voice really has changed, and I love it very much.

I know he’s alive and yet he has never tried contacting me to see if I am safe or happy. How can a parent do that to their child?

For his lack of love towards me I hereby give him the bird, and I pray that one day I will be okay with the rejection I’ve lived with for 45 years.