As I was laying on the MRI table and experiencing huge waves of deep love and gratitude, feelings I would never expect to be present in such a situation, I knew this was something I wanted to share with you.
In early November, I had some concerning symptoms in my left breast that got me to the doctor. In the 4 1/2 months that followed, I had a total of two mammograms, two ultrasounds, an MRI and multiple calls with my doc that never left me feeling resolved. My doctor, who I had never met before this experience, was incredibly kind and incredibly thorough, so much so that I sometimes wished she wasn’t so good at her job. But a tiny mass had been found that no one could understand through imaging, and doctors (I have found) don’t like to be left scratching their head - clearly something I was grateful for, and knew was wholly important to the process, but man was I feeling done with being poked and prodded and squeezed and smooshed and on my most tired days, I would dream of what it would be like to just not care and stop with all of the searching.
I received the call that I was going in for yet another MRI (this would make 6 images total, in case you lost count), but this one was going to be accompanied with a biopsy. I was instantly devastated because my mind went straight into fear about what it could mean, but soon after the initial shock, there was also a sense of peace inside that felt like I knew two things; One, that I would be OK no matter what the results were, and two, that it wasn’t going to be cancer. “Brave” my mind said when I observed my wisdom telling me it wasn’t anything to worry about. It’s amazing what our deeper self knows. It’s so honest (sometimes honest in a way you don’t want to hear), but when it’s handing us truth that is grounded and frankly, all for the best in the face of the unknown that looks scary to our minds, it’s truly remarkable AND gives our mind a run for it’s money when it so desperately wants to keep our attention on the ain’t-it-awfuls.
I had a month to wait until I could have the procedure and my goodness, did that month become one of my greatest teachers. I had this incredible opportunity to watch my mind and my wisdom play ping pong. I had put the whole procedure day on the back burner, so to speak, because it wasn’t going to be healthy for my body whatsoever to identify with any thoughts that were making pictures about how it was all going to go. As I’m sure you’ve experienced, however, the mind is going to do what the mind is going to do, so it unleashed the fearful thoughts at random, all the time. This is why I say that month became my greatest teacher. At the beginning I would find myself following the carrot of a thought that looked like I needed to consider it. Something as innocent as, “What is it going to be like?” would pop up and I would start down that rabbit hole. But when I quickly realized that I always ended up swimming in the depths of incredibly unhelpful thoughts, I knew it was time to take my power back from my mind and be a bit more vigilant about not taking the bait of any thought that had to do with the future (the dark and scary future, that is…). After that realization, it became easier and easier to notice when it would go to the gutter and my deeper self, the quiet voice of my wisdom, would gently step in and say, “You’re not there yet” allowing some peace to wash over me that would allow the scary thinking to move on.
By the time biopsy day arrived, of course the anticipation was unnerving (I’m only human after all) but I truly felt peaceful deep inside. I didn’t have anxiety, I didn’t feel fearful, I had an overwhelming sense of what Barbra Streisand says to herself before she walks on stage, “Let go and let God."
Before the procedure I was introduced to Jessica, an incredible nurse who would be my liaison throughout the entire process. When she first sat down she walked me through how the whole shabangy was going to play out. As she began, I welled up with tears and I shared with her, “Don’t mind me, I’m just releasing the tension from anticipation.” From there on out I was fully present and what came forth was immense. For the following hour and a half, while I laid on my belly with my arms stretched over my head like Superman, I was tasked to not move a muscle and it was an incredible opportunity to relax in the midst of a pretty uncomfortable procedure. Of course, there were moments of physical pain that would give me a little jolt, but instead of being tense and full of noisy fearful thoughts, I felt a sense of deep peace and as if my heart was filling up the entire room. Jessica was by my side with her hand on my back, coaching me in my ear, “You’re doing so good, hon”. The surgeon, someone I had never met and still haven’t seen (since I was face down), was so gentle and kind, letting me know every move he was making moments before he made them. It was a dance. A dance of life that we were all a part of and I was fully aware of how special it was. I couldn’t stop quietly weeping to myself because it was all so heartbreakingly beautiful (in fact, I’m tearing up just recalling it for you). At one point Jessica, with her hand on my back, said, “You’re ok” when she felt me crying and I said back to her, “I know, you’re both just so wonderful.”
I shared all of this with you today because what I experienced in that operating room was a microcosm of what is available to us every single day, in our daily lives. It may seem brave to follow the quiet voice of your wisdom when your mind looks much more reasonable with all of it’s opinions, but man oh man, when you honor the truth inside, the gifts that come thereafter are what make every moment from small to big, incredibly rich and valuable.
Life moves through you, not to you.
Enjoy the dance.
Sending love in all directions,
Jessie
PS~ The cells came back benign. Hallelu.
