Stop and Go

Wait, what?

I’ve been silent for a few weeks. Mostly because nothing changed. I was a body in usual motion, waiting for the results of a test that would guide my future treatments. A high score would send me to six months of chemotherapy, a low score would mean no chemotherapy and a low recurrence percentage and the start of radiation.

I keep busy working on my Linocut printing project, continuing my twice a week baking days, living each day as I always do. I feel like I’m stopped at a T in the road, waiting for the directions on which way to turn. But life doesn’t stop so I keep going.

It’s been almost a month since the test was sent out. I check my email every few hours and make sure my phone is on, in case the doctor’s office calls. On Tuesday afternoon, I’m at my cheese booth at the farmers’ market, selling cheese and baked goods to my customers. My breast surgeon walks up to the counter, her hands dancing in the air. “You’ve heard the results, haven’t you?” “What? My results?!”

“Yes, didn’t Bridget call you?”

“No! I haven’t heard anything. I’m still waiting.”

“Oh my! You came in low so you won’t need chemotherapy. I can’t believe she hasn’t called you yet.”

“Are you sure you had the right name?” I ask. “Yes,” she reassures me.

I stand there, not believing my ears. I help her with her order, finish up and, as she walks away, I turn around to my wooden butcher block counter, lay my head down on my arms and cry. How do I describe a month of preparing for the worst while hoping for the best? And the relief after finally knowing the result? And the guilt of knowing that I am one of the “fortunate” ones? And the reality that now my road continues with six weeks of radiation in my future and a 5 year daily estrogen blocker?

I still haven’t heard the word from the doctor’s office. So I call to check in. “Yes, you have a low score,” they tell me. Now it truly sinks in. I believe it. And remind myself of it regularly.

I already have appointments set up for this week with the medical oncologist and to do my mapping for radiation. With the one, we go over what the side effects will be from my daily pill. It requires me to take a bone density test and another consultation to talk about it: two more appointments are scheduled for next week.

I decide to ride my bike to my radiation mapping appointment and hope to continue that routine through all of my radiation treatments. Biking on the trail that follows the Millrace, autumn beauty surrounds me. Brightly colored trees reflect on the water. Fall skies shine bright. As I pedal, I soak in the beauty and carry it with me inside the gray walls of the radiation department.

Gown up on the photo for your protection

As I lay down to get my body mold for radiation, arms above my head, gown below my waist, then slide in and out of the C-scan machine, I feel nature, strong and beautiful, in my bones. I receive three tattoos across my upper body that will help the radiation team ensure that the radiation will target the exact area that needs it.

As I bike home, I let nature renew and release me. This road, I can do.