A Brief History

Now, with a little distance, I'll try to tell the story of my breast cancer diagnosis and treatment.

I hadn't had a mammogram since 2005. Back then I was being monitored every 6 months for microcalcifications. Tired of the painful scans and wary of the radiation I did a little self-diagnosis (with help from google) and decided the calcifications were caused by the surgery I had had to remove a fibroadenoma. This year my ob-gyn finally insisted on a mammogram and suggested the new techology available at the breast center next door. So, my first mammogram in 3 years and my first digital mammogram was taken May 30th. The call back for more pictures came within a few days. After lots of magnifications, the radiologist called me a small room to show me the pictures. She was concerned about a new area of microcalcifications that was following a line, possibly lining a duct. She gave me the option of waiting 6 months or having a biopsy done immediately. I opted for a steriotactic biopsy which was done June 20th. Somewhat painful but not bad, I was glad when it was done. The radiologist seemed less upbeat. "We should have the results within a few days - I'll keep my fingers crossed for you" - sad smile. Hmmm. I knew absolutely nothing about breast cancer then. But things were about to change.

On June 21st we celebrated out 27th anniversary at 555 in Portland. The meal and wine were outstanding but throughout the evening I had this strange feeling, as if I were watching myself at the candle-lit table, laughing and holding my husband's hand. Life before and life after, cherish the before. The after will last the rest of your life.

Why Write?

I understand now that writing, for me, is like taking photographs of elusive images. I want to capture the images for myself and for others to look at time and again. I want to hold on to the feelings, the moments, the thoughts that make up my life.

Jenny and Lynsey, the down comforter pulled around them, reading Truman Capote’s In Cold Blood together, the snow whirling beyond them, the woods beyond the snow. Twilight bouncing the snow closer and closer to us, while the fire gently crackles in the library. Chicken simmering in wine and herbs on the stove. Chuck reading the New York Times, “Lis, listen to this…”

This is our Sunday afternoon. A snap shot among so many.

When I was 11, I spent a sleepless winter night, tossing and turning. Thinking that all the moments of my life would blur together eventually and that I wouldn’t remember any one of them. So I decided to remember that one moment. I looked up through the skylight at the full moon. That was over 30 years ago and I still remember the exact look of the moon, the clouds racing through the halo, how cool the pillow felt against my face. That is the only moment I remember from my childhood. I remember other things – the smell of coffee wafting up to my room in the morning, my sister’s face when she was overcome with mischief, the wind pushing my hair back as I rode the bow, high over the water. But none of these things are clear and deliberate in my mind. They are vague and changing and will probably slip away eventually. But the moon will be with me forever. I know this with such certainty. And I wonder, is it possible to capture other moments? Not just memories but moments. Not melodies but individual notes. That is what I wish to do. And when I read these notes, I want to remember.

My Angels

This morning I went outside while it was still dark. I stood and looked up at the sky, ablaze with stars while Chance rummaged around the gardens and listened for sounds from the woods. The girls were in the kitchen pouring coffee and running down lists of what they had packed. Chuck paced back and forth across the windows, gathering last minute things, putting donuts in a bag. Our girls were leaving on an early flight.

Their laughter spilled out the screen door, across the lawn to where I stood. Two months together and every day I thought about this moment, the moment it would end.

Our nest had been empty for two years so I was aware this time around. My breast cancer had given us the excuse we needed... "A gift" we said to each other so many times it felt like Christmas every day and I started to lose track of where the cancer ended and the joy began. An unexpected gift. I savored every second.

Now I was healed and it was time for my angels to fly. Standing alone in the dark I gathered the strength I would need to let them go. Memories floated around me so vididly I could touch them. Little things from the first days after my surgery... a water glass that never seemed to empty, my foot rest magically adjusted when I needed, a pot of soup simmering on the stove just as my appetite began to awaken. And then as I grew stronger...walks to the ocean, lunches out, dinners in, movies that made us laugh until we cried.

I was held when I needed it most but I think I can let go now. I think I am strong enough to walk alone, to let my angels fly.

Bon Voyage

As the last day of our two month holiday draws to a close, we light the candles and drink the last bottle of cold, white wine. What a time it has been. Never to be forgotten. Bon voyage summer. Travel safe. All my love as you go.