Fear and Loathing on Planet Earth

breastMy daughter has the singular talent of lifting me up to the stratosphere with joy or slamming me down to the depths of hell. She has this most frustrating habit of dropping some kind of bomb shell on me and then going off the grid for days or even weeks, no answering text messages, the phone, doesn’t respond to messages left asking her to call me.

Sometimes I get so aggravated that I want to buy a plane ticket just so I can fly up to Boston and choke her until her eyes pop out. Her latest bomb shell was a text message informing me that she got a bad result on a mammogram. No stress there, hah! I immediately tried to contact her. Finally, after a week of sleepless nights and stressed out days, I managed to get through the Great Barrier Reef she erected and talk to her.

She was pretty stressed out and explained that she tends to hide when something bad happens. I know the feeling and will try to remember that the next time I isolate because someone or something is bothering me. The not knowing what is going on is sometimes a lot worse than the actual facts of a matter.

I tried to explain to her that it was probably just a cyst because she is prone to those. When she was a kid she used to get what we refer to in the south as bible bumps on the topside of her wrist. The word bible comes into play is because the cure was to whack the bump with the family bible which burst the cyst and it is reabsorbed by the body. It sounds gruesome but really isn’t that painful. I didn’t do that though. She got those several times and always cured herself accidentally by flailing her arms around and whacking her wrist on a door jamb or table edge. She’s very dramatic and waves her arms around when she talks.

So she is supposed to go get a biopsy this week on the contrary lump in her breast. I hope and pray that it is nothing. But, I can’t help but be terrified. She’s my baby girl after all, even though she’s 40 years old. I don’t want her to suffer and be frightened, but she is and there is nothing much I can do except talk to her and be there for her when she needs me.

16 responses

  1. Hope is nothing bad, cross my fingers for her and for you!!! lots of love your way!!

    1. Thank you, Ellen 🙂

  2. I have a tendency toward cysts myself (probably inherited from my mother), so I know how stressful this all is. I’m assuming they already did a second mammo and an ultrasound . . . right? Those should be the next steps before a biopsy. Either way, this will give you clear answers. I’m sending out good thoughts for negative results.

    1. Thank you. She was supposed to get follow up exam last week, but instead went out on a boat and got sunburned. She has a bad habit of going into denial. So I’m going to put on my Mom Hat and bug the crap out of her until she gets follow up testing.

  3. Your daughter is a lot like mine. I understand what you are going through with her. That said, my prayers are going out for your daughter (and for you).

    1. Thank you so much.

  4. I wish her good luck! There’s nothing like the fear of not knowing if you’re sick or not.

    1. Yeah there really isn’t anything like it. Especially when one is cursed with a vivid imagination.

      1. I’m currently seriously convinced that I am dying (waiting for an appointment) and I blame my imagination for this entirely! If only there was a button that switched off imagining possibilities while you wait.

  5. You and your daughters are in my prayers.

    1. Thank you, I deeply appreciate the prayers.

  6. I’m glad I can return the favor and tell you everything will be all right, but I wish I didn’t have to.
    All the best to you and your lovely daughter.
    P.S.: You can tell your daughter that my wife has a ton of cysts, but none of them are cancerous.

    1. I will tell her that. Thank you Mr. Hook.

      1. No, thank you, my lovely friend, for being there when I needed you most.

  7. There are a lot of false-positive mammo results (says the woman diagnosed at age 40, I know) but maybe your girl will be one of the lucky ones. Fingers crossed.

    1. Thank you Miss Pink, I know you’ve been in the trenches yourself.

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