My journey begins on Saturday, October 4, 2014.  How exquisite a beginning as I was sitting at the Coast of Oregon, in a town called Manzanita, in the middle of a “girls weekend”!  Relaxed, cozy flannel pajamas, glass of wine, crispy autumn evening, full glorious moon…and wonderful company of women friends.  As I reached back to get comfy and settle into the conversation, something caused me to reach into my bra and touch my right breast.  Truly — I have no idea how that happened.  Guess it felt comfy…and then I felt it…that lump that you hear about…that you are taught and that is engrained in your woman mind…that you look for every month in the shower…that you never really really give too much thought to.  I felt it.  I caught my breath and hoped the other 2 women didn’t notice.  I felt the heat rise in my body and my heart pound out of my chest.  I felt again…I know that I’m just imagining things…it’s that glass of wine, right?  Nope…it’s still there.  5 minutes later…still there.  I ignore it all and return to the conversation.  I wonder, did they notice that I disappeared for a bit?  That I left the space we were sitting in and went into a bubble of frenzy and spinning thoughts?  I don’t think so.  I pick up where I left off…but drifting in and out of the physical reality. Life Tara in Gone with the Wind — I am not going to worry about this now nor over this spectacular weekend.  Nothing I can do…add it to my calendar for “later”!

Later comes on Sunday morning, when I make that call to the imaging center to schedule the mammogram.  Yep — checked again when I woke up — it’s still there dammit!  No schedulers on Sunday, they’ll call me on Monday.  OK — put it all away until then.  Move into the day and be in the moment.  I’m in between 2 worlds.  The world with my friends, and the coast and the sunshine and the beauty of this life.  We take a perfect long walk along the beach and up through the town.  I stay behind and simply spend moments in the moment.  Alone, peaceful, feeling the crashes of the waves and the popping of the fleas in the grains of sand. The footprints that disappear with the tide.  The pawprints alongside the shoe prints.  The lives that unfold all around me and within me.

Monday morning comes and I impatiently await the call from the Imaging center to schedule my appointment.  They must be having a busy day as no one calls me back.  So I take control back and make that call.  Nothing until next week.  I can’t wait that long — I ask for the first available and insist on the appointment.  It works and I feel in charge, though I know that I have never had control over this and that is tough to accept.  No control.  Just go with the flow.  It is what it is.  It is….until it isn’t.  Sheeesh!

Tuesday afternoon mammogram.  It’s now 3 days of knowing and feeling this unwelcome guest in my body.  This invader of my pristine health.  This toxic, unfriendly lump that changes the course of my vision.

Yes…you were right Ms Butler.  There’s a lump.  Let’s do the ultrasound and get the biopsy over with as long as you’re here.  OK.  Sure.  Let’s go.  Next.

Dr. Tortorelli hands me a sealed white envelope.  Don’t open this unless I call and tell you that you need to open it.  OK.  The wait begins.  They’ll call within 48 hours with the results of the pathology report.  OK.  I make myself a promise that I will not think about this until then.  I won’t give this shitty visitor anymore of me than it may have already taken.  That’s how I stay in control!  Yeah!  I knew there would be a way!

48 hours passes and I hear nothing.  Make the call only to find out that they don’t have results back yet, but that she will call me first thing in the morning on Friday, when she finds out.  OK. Life goes on for a bit…normal…hold onto that normal for every last possible minute.  Hold onto it until it changes.  It will change.  That I know for sure.

Friday morning, October 10th.  I take a step off the Max and am ready to head through the park for a meditative stroll to the office.  That’s how I start my mornings.  Except this time my phone rings as I take that first step.  I catch my breath.  This is that nanosecond.  This is when I pass thru the bubble and into a fuzzy blurry version of my reality.  My vision is clouded…I don’t see my reality any longer.  I’ve moved into someone else’s version of my reality.

Monica, you need to open the white envelope, she tells me.  I know, I say.  You tested positive for breast cancer.  I know, I say.  It’s a grade 2 (that’s not the stage).  It is not in the lymphnodes.  Yeah!  Got you contained you sucka!  You’re not going anywhere except straight out the door!  That’s all I hear…the rest turned into a slow motion blahhh. blaaaahhhh.  blaahhhhh.  I get my assignment.  Step 1 is to schedule an  MRI.  Step 2 is to interview something called a surgical oncologist.  Ask your friends for referrals — you must know women in Portland who are survivors.  Yes…I do.  Thanks.  On with my day.  My day…who imagined it would be this…my day…it is taken over…I can’t think.  I must think…I must be on task.   I feel like I’m taking on a project and have my goals defined.  Get names.  Schedule appointments.  Right.  On it!

At the end of this week long day, I feel accomplished.  I have talked to Komen, to my insurance, to 3 surgeons and scheduled my MRI.  I am back in control.  It feels amazing.  I have a strength within me that only feels weakened when I think of all of my girlfriends and family with whom I now need to share my story.  I feel sad now, weak at the thought of this.  I feel the sadness and angst that I will cause my loved ones.  Ok — on with it.  One by one…like a to-do list.  Make my calls…share my story….make them promise not to worry.  I am not scared and I am not worried.  Not in the least bit.  I am on task managing a project with a deadline.  I’m the leader of this project.  I’ ve always wanted to be a leader.  Funny.

I make sure that my weekend plans are not in jeapardy.  I will not let this unwelcome visitor get in the way of my joy!  Farmers market, Hot Lips pizza, dinner with my dear friends Frank and Eileen.  Winery plans for Sunday with a cozy chilli dinner at home.  Life truly goes on because that is what it’s about….the moments of joy!

So, I’m off.  My latte awaits me.  Bach is playing in the background.  The rain gently sprinkles it’s energy onto the forest outside my balcony.