Tomorrow I’ll roll out of bed before 6:30 so I can pick up my dear friend on the other side of the city, then ferry her back my way to the hospital. I’m doing this because I have so cared about her for fifteen years. There is a grab bag of chortles and sighs to sort through as I consider what’s ahead for her. She lives alone now. How few people we might call upon; our neighbors are usually not the first choices for such events. Just as she has been with me through upheavals and victories, I am for her. For one thing, she extended herself immediately at a women’s recovery meeting when I was in need of a particularly female place of both daring tales and ready kindnesses. It became obvious the meeting was exceptional and her rhapsody of laughter and open-heartedness made a real difference. We remain close, checking in with each other, enjoying a meal, attending movies or plays. Life has thus far been pretty darned good to us. She and I haven’t had one fall-out though we are quite different in many respects.
But tomorrow I know it will be humbling, even taxing, to pull on one of those visually defeating, chill-inducing gowns, then to lie back and submit to various drugs and tests. Then wheeled into the room where medical staff organize and implement surgical procedures. They try to reassure you as full consciousness fades. Still, you are left stripped down to vulnerability, set sailing into a narcotic-tinged land from which you emerge an amnesiac. If lucky.
It’s not a situation to be wondering why you are somehow left alone. It is not what anyone of us would want to be doing, at all. The smells, the sounds, the equipment and the faces you don’t even know but must trust…well, we do what we have to do.
She is having a lumpectomy, whereby a discovered but not yet scientifically identified mass will be removed from breast tissue and sent to pathology. I’m not certain just how the rest works after I remind her God is watching over her now and always, and I am with her, too, only in the waiting room, then give a small wave.
However, I do recall some of what it was like for me in 1977.
It seemed the room to which I was sent was right inside the exit of the small hospital. I think there was greeness seeping through curtains, undulating shadows of branches. Then the rudeness of a light so huge it swallowed me up. Or was that later? It was mainly like swimming in dreams, peculiar yet exquisite, memorable enough that I wrote a poem about it two years after the excision, at age 29. This was way back when I used the name Cynthia Guenther-Falk. It was published in a small college lit journal, Wave Two.
How is it that beauty sprang from overriding fear as my eyelids fluttered and fell? My husband at that time had brought me to a small city from the country–we were rural then–but I don’t remember his being near in other ways. We were at odds then and our teeth were set hard as we faced this new ordeal. There was a love that exhilarated us with its creativity, the countless possibilities between us, yet we could not keep steady footing for long. Before the atmosphere grew heavy, passion woven with recurrent patterns of resentment and disbelief. A sculptor and carpenter, he was an echoing force without uttering a sound. I, a writer and singer who needed to excavate obscure meanings, a lost and elegant measure. I wanted happiness to take deep root but it grew spindly, in the end. Failed us even as we held on.
And in the midst of this snarl of warning signs was that well-defined lump, left breast. An unyeilding bit of matter that made life more strident. What were we to do if it was–trying just not to think it– cancerous? What would be left of me even if not? Would this bring us together, like two feet walking in a pair of shoes as meant to be? Or would there be one more expanse taut between us as we moved into opposite positions?
There was and has still not been any breast cancer in my family–in fact, very little cancer of any sort. There is heart disease that kills in many ways; it got hold of me at 51. But before then I was horrified of that three-inch mass, how it dictated the tone of my daily life, threw long shadows onto any future. For a while. When it was sliced, tested and certified benign we were released of staggering options that would have brought more grief. But I remember how the sudden hug hurt as he pulled me so close. That after the winter I nearly subsisted on air, stress and a foolish, stubborn hope. His father was dying. The air thickened with angst. We were unable to say to one another the saving words. Then finally one late spring day he passed the children and me as we drove away from that life, and he shouted from his truck that he had already filed for divorce, anyway. How that made me cry out as if another kind of knife had rent the skin of my soul.
But the breast tissue healed. The scar was not too big, was even tidy. Sometimes I felt guilty knowing things were not fine for so many other women. I had been a hippie mom, nursing long and well, and would again. My biology had often felt easy; being female even felt irrelevant as intellect worked hard. Yet being female also had hindered and hounded me. Still, although that life was not one fitted with sturdy happiness I was able to reclaim it as my own when the diagnosis came.
In youth we feel it all but understand–indeed, can barely claim the truth–much less. I don’t today live in fear of breast cancer and the spectrum of experiences I did then. Even though anything could happen that is worse than imagined. Even though some things have. I am much older now, older than I thought I wanted to be when only 27. But I know the veil between this life and the other is nearly transparent. I have slipped through it, have even been comforted. Amazed. Life reconfigures us and we, it. I am most fearful of not living in truth, with enough depth. Not seeing the kaleidoscopic beauty of this current life. Not finding enough of God moving among us. Not loving enough, without one regret.
The physical scarring that was left me has remained visible; it has been tagged at every mammogram, explained as partners’ fingers have found it. There was another biopsy but less invasive; decades have passed and there is so much more knowledge and good treatment. But women still suffer and die way too often from the proliferation of treacherous cells. And, I know, from treacherous lives.
My first husband, he who accompanied me to the breast surgery, passed away this year. I dream of him and say his name without speaking. We had something rarefied as an orchid though it also needed more or different nourishment. He died from long-ignored cancer, which haunts me (though he would have said: it can be anything, anything that gets us, it matters little). Maybe that is why I was able to locate the poem; it longed to be recalled, the caring and errors of caring. I went right to it, found it wedged beside greater volumes on crammed and dusty bookshelves.
When my friend told me she had to have a similar procedure as I had once had, it came right back as if it was yesterday: that day, that year. And when the page was opened I felt again that disassociation, the weirdness of biopsy. But also how much any kind of love can elicit moments rare and unsettling and crucial. Friends, lovers, children, husbands. We find the intersection of such moments and take them with us or are the lesser for it.
We know how much we care for others and our very lives by how our hearts keep close their names–and the fierce and tender ways we continue living.
This is the poem from 1977. It tells a portion of that surgery’s story and what surrounded it.
Friday/Excision
I am swung high into whiteness
as voices skitter beyond.
In the chrome-ringed sun–
is this Saturn, have I come
this far?–
is my head, hair spread out
over shoulders in silken
riverlets, my neck
smooth as a moonstone.
Breath is drawn somewhere
near my toes,
vaporous breath and sensibility
rippling about veiled flesh
and mind.
Soon the singing comes
even though I have not called it,
bird-voicings, light sounding
the whiteness through a tangle
of vines. Wings
of many colors,
eye of jewels,
flowers like plumes in the wind.
Your shaman hands dipped into
sweet waters, my throat.
Whirling, we lose our legs
to shadows, lengths of light.
And stop. See here?
My forehead bears our imprint
and more,
and less; nothing is lost.
But we migrate to the certainty
of earth, changed and unchanged
together.
And I become
mountainous, my narrowness
overcome with leaves and blossoms,
blossoms and leaves.
Wind.
I try not to sing aloud
now it is done. I see that
from my breast has come something
as large as a pigeon’s
egg. The pocket of
skin is embroidered shut;
I am covered with a new breast
of soft gauze.
And rise with quivering sight,
the knowledge of so much
fine-edged steel in a lifetime,
your fingertips dreaming
in my shoulders
(from Wave Two, published 1977)
So, tomorrow morning I will sit and read, pray for my friend. I may even recall my own experience but will accept my past self as I was, a young woman filled to the brim with intimations of good to come yet blinded by wrong assumptions, too. But for my friend I will be present. Will hope against hope that she comes through this without any weeping but if weeping is needed, I will hold on to her. Love shared is that easy–it comes from a place of grace, thanks be to God. I want her life to be reinvigorated by joys. Balanced by peace. If difficulty is ahead may I take that road with her. The light we seek and find is always there. We are charged with keeping it bright. May it fill her being and body now and tomorrow.
Reblogged this on akakpohope and commented:
Romance time
Thank you for the reblog although I don’t think it has much to do with romance but women’s health and well being…regards!
I love your writing. So honest, thoughtful and heart wrenching. How lucky your friend is to have a friend such as you.
Ah, well, friends do those things for friends, right? They are good to me, as well. 🙂 And thanks much for your appreciation of my writing. Come back again some time and have a good one wherever you are!
Thank you for sharing. You’re a very brave mom.
Thank you for your comment. I suspect all moms are deeply brave…
Such a heartfelt blog – how descriptive. Wonderful to have a friend like you that can be trusted to be there
Thank you so much for reading and sharing thoughts. It is a pleasure to be be there for friends, don’t you agree? Sometimes just sitting quietly is all we need to do. Regards.
Very well written!
Thank you kindly.
I read this on the eve of my Son’s MRI and biopsy to find out if the growth of his little 21 month old thyroid is cancerous. It is not really the same as what you have written, but yet it is. We have been stricken with health issues in my little family in the last year, and the only constant remains that we can control nothing, except how we react. I am trying my hardest to react with love, growth and understanding.
This piece is beautiful and raw as only the situation calls for.
Thank you,
Kristen
Kristen, I am sad you have this burden of pain and worry but you have the strength of powerful love. I will keep you all in prayer. Thank you for reading and finding connection. I hope for you and your family better times. Peace to your family and blessings.
Lady at the green garden..so nice
Such bravery, such compassion. Loved it, well done.
http://Www.thedatebookblog.wordpress.com
Ah, so good of you to say so. We do what we need and want for those we love, I think…Thank you.
Beautiful story
Thank you for your reading and your sharing; I am so glad you are a survivor. Me. too.
Beautiful story .. Painful memories make one more stronger and better.. In Every struggle comes ease.. Your friend is lucky to have you around pray she is recovering ..
Thank you kindly. I am lucky to have her as a friend.
Very nice
Reblogged this on herlix and commented:
Love and Excision
beautifully written.
https://underthemascara.wordpress.com/
Thank you; I appreciate your appreciation.
Very nicely-written. I am glad you find blogging as enjoyable as I do. We all have a voice to spread, so let there be light!! 🙂
Thank you kindly and amen!
An awesome read
I loved it
Thank you for sharing
Check out my new blog https://danixkamau.wordpress.com/2015/10/27/wacuka/
Thank you and best wishes!
What a delightful picture
That’s simply beutiful
..and it was, and aching, too. Thank you for for appreciation.
Nice article
Thank you.
What a beautiful inspiring read. Thank for sharing.
Thank you. A joy to write and share at WordPress.
nice articel, i like..
Thank you.
the article like my experience..
Painful too
Ah, true enough…
This is beautiful
So pleased you enjoyed it–regards to you and yours.
I had a lumpectomy when I was 21; 10 years ago. I remember the fear and then relief. I’ll be thinking of and praying for you and your friend. Good luck.
Thank you kindly. My friend’s biopsy was negative for cancer, but anomalies in cells still indicate a higher risk and she may take medication for more protection. I will pass on your prayer and good wishes.
Nice article
Félicitations pour ce post ! 🙂
lovely blog thanks for shearing!!!
Thank you.
So beautiful! The poem was sad but hopeful. Congratulations and all the best ❤
So glad you enjoyed reading the post. Thank you.
” Life reconfigures us and we, it. I am most fearful of not living in truth and depth. Not seeing the kaleidoscopic beauty of this current life, Not finding enough of God moving among us. Not loving enough, without one regret.”
My best part of the poem.
Thank you for finding a way to connect with this and for reading and sharing. Blessings.
Reblogged this on simplicity, courage, and individualism .
Thank you.
Cynthia…what a beautiful name from Greece…I really hope all goes fine in the future for you and you friend. Wish you all the best. You are a lovely beautiful human being! Thank you so much for sharing this with us, for showing us an intimate part of you and teach us with this something a lot of us forgot…friendship, support, altruism and all those human values that today are not there too much
Ah– I am touched by your kindest words and so glad you connected. Thank you for taking time to read the post and to share your own true self with me in this comment. Regards.
Hoping your friend gets through this difficult times.. Will pray for both of you
Thank you for your prayers; she is faring well now.
Friendship just got another dimension. This is truly beautiful. So poignant and heart melting.
http://www.thewhimsicalandwanderingsoul.wordpress.com
hope you would check this out too. Greetings from a new blogger. 🙂
Thank you. Best wishes in your writing.
I’m happy you came through it. That must be too difficult ,u suffered a lot still helping ur friend makes u great and thanks for sharing your feelings with us. God has given you 2nd life make it worth ! . Hope u update us with future happenings too. Following u 😉
Thank you. Best to you and yours.
Omg so touching and so beautiful to read . Please read my blog xx
Thank you.
You’re welcome
Such a beautiful story. Melts the heart and tells of how to be a true friend… and the poem is lovely too. Just joined this community of bloggers and I hope to enjoy more of your work, while hoping I also get followers to enjoy mine too. Bless you!
I appreciate your appreciation and hope for the best in your blogging adventure. It’s a great community at WordPress! Regards.
A touching story. I am touched. Any tips how to write such a touching story like this? 🙂
Would love to hear back from you. 🙂
Warm Regards,
ArHa
Thank you for reading and sharing your thoughts. Write your own truth, from your heart.
You’re welcome. I will try to write it. I hope I can find it beautiful as well yours. Keep sharing stuff like this. It’s really inspiring and changing. 🙂
Have a good one,
ArHa
Hi.. I just read your blog it’S nice..:)
Thank you.
You are welcome, i am just new hear in wordpress.. I’m jist starting to become a blogger. 🙂
Best to you in your blogging adventures–and enjoy sharing with this great community!
Yes, thank you so much.. I hope that you will also follow my blog once I’m done with my first ever blog. 🙂
So beautiful….i love your writing!! That poem really hit a soft spot for me
So glad the poem found you and you enjoyed my writing. Blessings.
beautiful I’m a new blogger hope your friend gets well plz follow and comment on me and my bestfriends page
Beautiful
So very touching!
Thank you for reading and commenting.
It was such good piece of writing this.. Hopefully you’re friend is all well now.. Thanks for sharing.
I appreciate your comments. She is well! Thanks for reading.
Click on my name to check my blog, hopefully you’ll like mine as much as I liked this one
🙂
Thank for the article!
You are so welcome.
Loved reading this😀
FALLING IN AND OUT OF LOVE IS AS CYCLICAL AS THE TIDES OF THE OCEAN! | thepinkpages92
https://thepinkpages92.wordpress.com/2015/09/01/falling-in-and-out-love-is-as-cyclical-as-the-tides-of-the-ocean/
Please do check out!
Thank you for reading.
Surgery…where anything at all can happen, and much of it can be bad. Nicely dealt with in this case.
This is so touching. Operations and hospital-themed procedures are among the greatest fears of many people. I wish you the best and I hope your friend gets through it. Thanks for sharing.
https://jenzpic.wordpress.com/
Thank you for your good wishes. All turned out well, thank goodness.
“All will be well”, God told me to tell you that.
And received, thank you.
This is really cool! I’m a new blogger, just got in yesterday tho and scanning through posts and discovered yours. I hope to read more from you and pray people follow me and enjoy my posts too the way I enjoyed yours
So glad you enjoyed this one; thanks for commenting. Best to you in your blogging adventures!
Beauty does often spring from unknown fears!
Thank you for that. Yes, life brings such contrasts; we need to find the shining truth in each. I appreciate your reading the post.
THIS IS GREAT! Check out my blog, let me know your comments for a first timer.
hy ladies and gentleman ……. please read my new blog……puisiweb
thank you very much
…..
Thank you.
Those were great writing. it gave me much pleasure.
I am a freshman in the enoromous wordpress world. I just started blogging yesterday. As you all know, every freshman need a positive feedback from the superfast bloggers. So I’m expecting a very worm welcome from you. You can visit my Blog so that I can share my Feelings to you. looking for a positive feedback https://domaincombd.wordpress.com/ Thank you. Have a nice day.
Thank you for responding and all the best in your endeavors.
it’s so torching
Wishing your friend all the best for the upcoming therapy
Thank you…all has turned out well…
I love this “Soon the singing comes
even though I have not called it,
bird-voicings, light sounding
the whiteness through a tangle
of vines. Wings
of many colors,
eye of jewels,”
I’m happy you found these words; thank you for being open to them. And for commenting–regards.
It is a great read Cynthia, I thank you too for writing such a great peace. I find those words soothing and it speaks to me always as I read all over again 🙂
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your friend got an angel. you are inspiring
Ah, you are kind. Friends need one another, yes? We need compassion for all. Blessings.
Beautiful n inspiring it is. God has his ways to send just the RIGHT people to accompany us at the right time..
Will b glad if you check out my blog talking about thoughts n feelings. http://Www.positivelightsblog.wordpress.com
Thank you for commenting; blessings your way.
Wow thank you for sharing this its a beautiful piece!
… thank you kindly for reading and sharing with me your appreciation! Blessings.
Nice one
Thank you for reading. Best to you.
Very beautiful!
Beautiful! A heart warming story!
Thank you for reading…I am glad you were moved.
I agree, beautiful story here.
And I appreciate the appreciation. Regards to you.
This is beautiful
Thank you; the beauty is there for you, too. Blessings.
Cool. I adore this one tho
Wishing your friend all the best for the upcoming therapy. She’s lucky to have a great person like yourself who is there for her in the times of need
yeah I agree with you
Thank you for reading.
Sonia, my hope is that we all have caring from others. Pass it on. And thank you so much for reading and commenting.
A touching story. You were brought to be her rock through what you too had been through! Strong amazing friendship ☺️
Beautiful
I am touched by your comment and appreciate your taking time to share your thoughts. I am the lucky one.
Thank you for sharing your story. I believe you both are blessed to have each other x
Perhaps you’re right. We are her for one another for a purpose, after all–all of us…Thank you for enjoying the post.
Thank you💞👍
And thank you for reading and saying thanks….blessings
Am so touched, I pray everything will turn out for good
I am moved by your being touched….things did turn out well. Blessings your way.
Thank God, blessings to you too
awesome *
Thank you!
awesoem
So many words of wisdom.
Such kindness to say so and to share your comment. Blessings.
❤
Reblogged this on Hinode at Aldaw.
Wishing you’re friend all the best
*your (ARGH!!)
🙂
Thank you so much Jesska. She is a jewel.
Nice article
Thank you.
https://sunnyflyofficial.WordPress.com
Nice pic
Great expression of story
Thank you for reading and commenting.
Reblogged this on bptangguhblog.
It’s a wow..thank you for sharing 🙂
And I am so glad you stopped by–thanks for commenting.
You are most welcome… Happy to follow your blog 🙂
Hey I’m new search me wedgeannie@gmail.com
Deem uma passada no meu blog
Such a painfully poignant, raw but real peice. It’s beautiful. Thank you for sharing.
Yes, it was a time of tender feelings, also difficult challenges. Thank you or reading and commenting.
Thank you for commenting.
Happy to follow your blog
And I am gratified you find it worth reading, especially as I love to write “longform” and it takes some time…Regards.
I’m pleased you came through, and hope your friend does
Thank you, Derrick.
In made you do nothing looks!