Details in the fabric

Ok- I confess, things that go bump in the night was written after my doc found a lump. Yep, in my breast. It's one of the many things we ladies dutifully check for, and don't expect to find... not in ourselves. We realize it is not uncommon-- in others.

(Gonna toot my own horn here, coz I deserve it.) Because I didn't cower at things that go "bump in the night", my doc discovered the lump I would not have found on my own. (I know this because even after he located it, showed it to me, and asked me to show him I could find it, I still struggled to feel the foreign object.) At any rate, confirmation that it did not exist a year ago was available, so a biopsy was done. Within two days, I had an appointment with a wonderful female breast surgeon who told me the obvious... that I was fortunate to have found it so quickly. It appeared to have clear "margins" (a word I am learning is a big deal in cancer circles), and had not spread. It requires a simple lumpectomy and nothing further. My lump is the size of a grape, so evidence of a lumpectomy will most likely not even be noticeable later.

Details in the Fabric refers to the ultrasound pictures we poured over with the surgeon as she tried to explain what looked different from the rest of the "fabric" of the breast tissue. For those of you who have had ultrasounds of any kind, you will understand when I say that we hadn't the slightest clue what we were viewing. It was all Greek to us, but Thank God someone pays attention to and understands the details. Details in the fabric matter.

Things That Go Bump in the Night

Our childhood fears that came in the night somehow morph as we grow older. They don't disappear. They simply change form.

Remember when you were tucked in at night, then your parents turned off the light and... left. You. Alone. In the dark. You, me, we were all petrified to stick out a toe-- any body part-- from under the covers! Some of you lucky souls got a night light. Not me. Adults think you can sleep better with the lights out, right? My chief fear wasn't the monster in the closet; mine was under the bed. I can still remember that hideous little monster from the movie Chuckie with his gnashing teeth and ghastly grin zipping out of nowhere to stab the first foot onto the floor! Then when the first adult came in to turn on the light, of course he morphed back into the plastic harmless doll he seemingly had always been.

The adult version is no less scary. It has nothing to do with dolls or scary movies. Unfortunately, things that go bump in the night for adults are based on things far more real. And we can't turn on the light and make them disappear. They are the things we lie awake dreading, though they haven't happened... they might. And, sometimes, that's enough to keep us tucked under our covers, wishing them away. It's the annual visit to the doctor-- what visions we bring. It's the worries we have as parents... countless as the grains of sand. It's a million different things that cause pain in life. I choose to join those who know they are not in control in this life, and repeat with them one of the most powerful mantras I know.

Higher Power than us, grant us the serenity to accept the things we cannot change, courage to change the things we can, and wisdom to know the difference.

Priceless gifts.

Meet Shell. She's Italian, outspoken, strong, emotional, a fabulous chef, very artistic- creates BEAUTIFUL things-- with all different mediums. She paints, sews, takes beautiful things apart and puts them back together again so she can see how to make them herself. She gives wise loving counsel to young people, and somehow, she's one who can just "slide it into home base" without them protesting too much! She has three hot young men for sons and one Adorable lil grandson.

Why do I tell you this? Well, for one, it's her birthday, and this is her biggest gift from me; secondly, Shell is the kind of friend one always dreams of having. Dreams are great to have. But they don't always come true. I dream about trips I wish I would have taken when I was young, or about time gone by that I wish I could have back. I dream I had Oprah's influence and wealth without all the hassle that goes with it. But when I need someone to understand why I chose what I did when the world seems dead-set against me, or someone to tell me it will be alright when one of my kids just did the unthinkable, or a friend to hold me when I can't do it myself, I call Shell. And she's there.

Some things in life really are priceless. The colors you see in the very real starfish we found, the stunning serenity of the ocean and its vastness, quiet moments spent soaking up love unseen. I hope that you have found your Shell. Life isn't worth living without one.

On the red carpet, I'm not looking at Jodi Foster. I spy... my gifted friend, doing her thing... naughty, fun, in the background... almost hidden, but never where she's told to be.

The Quiet Giants

People today know how valuable "down-time" is. Doesn't matter what you do for a living, life is pretty much lived in the fast lane. I'm sure there are a few saintly souls out there that have learned how to manage it all beautifully. I don't happen to be one of them. Knowing my constant quest for inner peace, a beautiful friend gave me this. I'm not a tree hugger, but I'm thinking of becoming one...

Trees
by Howard Nemerov

To be a giant and keep quiet about it,
To stay in one's own place;
To stand for the constant presence of process
And always to seem the same;
To be steady as a rock and always trembling,
Having the hard appearance of death
With the soft, fluent nature of growth,
One's Being deceptively armored,
One's Becoming deceptively vulnerable; (italics added)
To be so tough, and take the light so well,
Freely providing forbidden knowledge
Of so many things about heaven and earth
For which we should otherwise have no word-
Poems or people are rarely so lovely,
And even when they have great qualities
They tend to tell you rather than exemplify
What they believe themselves to be about,
While from the moving silence of trees,
Whether in storm or calm, in leaf and naked,
Night or day, we draw conclusions of our own,
Sustaining and unnoticed as our breath,
And perilous also- though there has never been
A critical tree- about the nature of things.

Seriously? Seriously.

In my high school writing class, Mrs. So-and-So always swore that writing could be fun. "But you have to focus," she used to drone. "Follow the rules!...Be SERIOUS about your writing!!!!"

Apparently, I finally learned this lesson...

Peace, baby.

Up early today. You know those nights when you wake early and thoughts swirl in your head like wind whipping snow across the plains in a winter storm? Unfettered, uncontrollable, wild. They're the kind of thoughts that make you wonder WHY you ever decided to do whatever it is you're doing- like raising children... or even getting married! or taking the job/career path you have. In the end, you know you made the best decision under the circumstances, but however are you going to endure the... tension?, monotony?, commitment?, pain? of what is to come.

How many books have I bought and discarded that vowed to solve my problems? Whatever it is that calls your name in the wee hours, you have no choice but to answer. It doesn't stand at the door and knock--like you were told Jesus does (if you grew up in Sunday school). It is not a gentleman. It is a bully.

Perhaps the most powerful bully we will ever encounter is the one that has no physical body -- only a voice. We only learn to make peace with it or take drugs to control it. There are no unique beings that haven’t been affected by it, only those who have chosen to deny it or look the other way. Few, if any, of us can wrestle this bully alone.

Sometimes the most difficult problems are solved with the simplest of solutions. If you haven’t done this already, try entering into an open, frank, non-judgmental relationship with a trust-deserving friend. And when you see those peace signs from the 60's that are so popular (and timely!) again... think of non-judgment as her sister. Peace, baby.