Did you know that the skin on your back is the thickest skin on your body? Neither did I until I was lying on my doctors table yesterday, anesthetized with Novocaine as she cut through mine. You see, I've had this lump on my back since high school. No big deal, right? Just a tiny little lump, no bigger than a huge pimple (which is what I thought it was for a few years, a perpetual pimple) in the middle of my back. I've asked around about it, my dad, who through his profession (not a doctor) if very knowledgeable when it comes to medical stuff. Also, my doctor. "It's just a cyst, no biggee. But if it ever changes, grows, or becomes painful, you'd better have it looked at." And, the fact that it was right on my spine was a little troublesome to boot.
So, I've lived with thing for approximately 28 years. Yes, 28. And though I didn't like it, and thought it was ugly, it never bothered me. Until Sunday.
Sunday I woke up with a horrible pain in my back. I reached back, felt it, and this lump, literally seemed to have grown at least three sizes overnight. Now, I'm sure it didn't happen overnight, but that's the way it seemed. I asked my husband, Rusty, if it looked weird. He said it had a funny white patch on it that he had never seen before.
I thought it was strange, and it hurt, but I went through my day, excercising, writing, cleaning, the normal stuff. I went to bed.
I woke up and the thing was aching. I had Rusty look at it again, and he said that now there was something on it that looks like a scab or mole. Needless to say, I was at that point, and excuse my language, scared shitless.
I made an appointment to get this thing checked out, and had to wait two more days. So for two days I was stewing, fretting, freaking out, really. Trying with all my might not to think about the "C" word.
That brings me to the beginning of my post, with me, lying on the table, back split open, my doctor tugging, pulling, ripping, cutting at this thing trying to dig it out. All of it. So it doesn't come back. Meanwhile, I pray she doesn't slip with the scalpel and paralyze me, avoid the question I should be asking because I'm not sure I want to hear the answer.
Finally she read my mind, "Oh, and by the way, this is benign." By the way. An afterthought for her, an obsession for me. Sigh. I could finally relax. Or maybe not? I mean, I just turned forty, what more is in store for me in this middle life and the years to come? What am I doing? Am I happy? Am I making others happy? Can I reach my goals? Am I making a difference? Or am I going to be like that cyst, unnoticed until it's almost too late, then taken out before I have the opportunity to impact the world around me?
Only time will tell, I guess.
All my sympathy - I scare myself half to death periodically, convincing me that I have some horrific abdomenal cancer or other. Mine all have to do with scar tissue that built up (on the inside!) after having a c-section.
ReplyDeleteWhich, by the way, happened when I was 42. My surprise baby, or, as my doctor said at the time, my 6-pound symptom of peri-menopause.
So, be careful, you.
Cathy
I can't imagine you fading out... just can't picture it.
ReplyDeleteglad all is well. it's funny, being in one's 40's; life is basically half over.
or really half begun... how I think of it, especially concerning the writing. definitely just beginning.
Most of us begin thinking about our mortality around forty. It's always been there, but we ignore it until bones start aching and our bodies start seemingly turning against us. If you look back at where you've been: forty long years, from diapers - to dating - to kids, you get some perspective.
ReplyDeleteLook at all of the eighty year olds, happy and healthy, and enjoying life – another long forty years ahead. Today ninety is not uncommon, a hundred is not unthinkable, what will medical technology bring in fifty or sixty years? Imagine living your whole life again.
Many people say, “If I could start over knowing what I do now...”. You can. You are not even halfway yet. You have another forty, fifty, sixty, years to take what you've learned and start over. You're just getting started.
I've said before that a woman only hits their stride at forty. It's true. Women blossom – sexually, emotionally, mentally – in their forties. It's hard for us 'old men' to keep up. Forty is not old anymore, not even midlife. It's the beginning of a whole new adventure. One where we are finally mindful of how precious life is.
I started writing – well started trying to get published – in my late forties. My son's are all grown up and in college, I'm at a comfortable place in my career, and my head is finally screwed on tight – or as tight as it's likely to get. To me, fifty – in less than two years – is the beginning of a new life.
Enjoy the fruits of forty hard years, embrace the strength of forty years of experience in the only game that counts – life. You are a veteran now, mature and accomplished – ready to take on another fifty or sixty years.
*hugs
max
Thanks Maxwell. I don't know why we think of 40 as such a devestating age to turn. I have actually read that women prefer their forties to any other age, probably because we have experienced, learned, grown, and are ready to apply that knowledge to the rest of our lives.
ReplyDeleteI'm ready.