A New Year’s Eve appointment

Today, I found out I don't have cancer. About a month ago, after not feeling my usual self, I noticed that one of my breasts didn't look the same as it had before. I wondered if perhaps I was imagining things; over the last year, I have developed a tad bit of hypochondria thanks to watching just how detrimental my parents' unhealthy lifestyle had been to their bodies.

My husband has become the level-headed one of us regarding health. He was always there to tell me I was overthinking or assuming too much; I figured I could count on him to set me straight. Besides, I knew he wouldn't be upset to take an up close and personal extended look at my breasts. You take what you can get in your 40s.

Much to my surprise, my husband agreed with me. Sure enough, my breasts looked different.

“I guess I should make an appointment."

My husband nodded and got quiet. Then I did what I always do regarding my health; I attempted to rationalize putting off the appointment.

“I already have my annual exam with the doctor in two months; maybe I should just wait until then."

Again, my husband was quiet.

“Do you think I should wait?"

Without hesitating, he replied, “No, I think you should make the appointment as soon as possible."

He won that exchange, and I made my appointment. The appointment was set for December 31st, New Year's Eve.

I had about two weeks to chew on the realization that I might be one of the many women in the world who have breast cancer. I know of two friends who went through breast cancer and two relatives. Cancer was always something I assumed I wouldn't get. It's not that I think I can't get sick; in fact, as of late, quite the contrary. I just always assumed if anything was going to get me, it would be something neurological. My dad has Parkinson's' and Lewy Body Dementia, his dad had Alzheimer's, and his dad's mother had Alzheimer's - and Lord knows my mother is not at the pinnacle of mental health. I don't appear to have the best hand dealt in the neurological department.

But cancer was not something I thought could be in my future, and realizing it could put me through an interesting chain of reactions.

At first, I was sad. Not necessarily sad that I might die, but more so sad that I didn't have anyone to lean on outside of my husband. I haven't spoken to my family in over a year, and they have made no meaningful attempt to repair what they broke between us. I couldn't help but think that if I had cancer, my husband's sister would probably come and help, and maybe his mom, but I wouldn't have anyone from my family.

This didn't mean I suddenly wanted to let them back into our lives. They had abused me for decades, used and manipulated me and my family, and tried to ruin us financially. There is no putting that toothpaste back in the tube. But it made me sad, and then it made me really angry. However, this phase of my emotional journey while I waited for my appointment to come didn't last too long. While I may no longer have a mother or father to care for me, a brother or aunt, or any other blood family in my life, I have my husband, my kids, and countless friends who I believe would be there for me if I needed them.

The next thought that crossed my mind was, what if I do have cancer, and what if I can't fight it? To put it plainly, what if I die?

The panic and regret that coursed through my soul at that thought was paralyzing. I had so much I still wanted to do with my life, so much I still wanted to teach my kids and show my kids a whole world I still wanted to experience with my husband. It wasn't fair. I was just getting started. I had finally freed myself from the bonds of my abusive family and was on a healing path all on my own. I couldn't possibly be done with this world already?

It's incredible how easy it is to say 'no' to experiences and plans.

It's too much money.

It's too far away.

What if it rains?

What if I fail?

I started to recall all the times I talked myself out of doing things, things I legitimately wanted to do using those exact phrases and others like it. Was that really going to be my legacy? A list of places I want to see, things I want to do, and goals I want to achieve in a notebook all not done because I chose to not do them for ridiculous reasons - that was sadder than realizing I had no blood relatives to give a damn about me dying.

Luckily, I had my appointment today, and I don't have breast cancer. My boob does look different because my skin is changing due to the natural changing of the seasons my body is going through (or, to put plainly, menopause). I felt a bit silly in the doctor's office when she told me, but at the same time, I was relieved and thankful. I'd rather know for sure that I don't have breast cancer than worry about it. And if I did have breast cancer, not having it appropriately diagnosed doesn't magically make it not exist.

So, I have a new lease on life, at least for a bit. It's a surprisingly great New Year's Eve, but I suppose every day you know you don't have cancer is a great day.

At any point, life could take a turn in a direction you didn't plan that ends up closing the book on all the plans, goals, and dreams you may have written away in a notebook, jotted down in an app, or floating around in your head. I don't want to be in my 60s or 70s like my parents and have worked my whole life to save up for all the great things I'll do "someday" to have "someday" either never come or come with dementia and Parkinson's.

No, I'd rather do the things today when I know I can, so I don't have a full book of unrealized dreams as my lasting legacy.

So, I'm planning a trip to Maine this month. I've always wanted to see Maine and have talked myself out of it because "it's too far," "it's too cold," or some other nonsense.

Life is a gift, and we all have been given a certain amount of time to live it. We don't know when that time will run out, but it will for each of us. Before my time is done, I'm going to go do some shit on my list in my notebook. Maybe it will be cold, maybe it is a long drive, but maybe it's fuckin' awesome.