Today the goddess speaks about herself:
It's the little things: a ketchup bottle on the couch bespeaks an adult child is living at home. The spouse's dirty laundry on my side of the bed is an alert that he is wanting to be taken care of. And, the dead mouse on the front porch tells me that a cat is requiring praise.
What little indicators do I leave about? It is much harder to say what messages I leave. I do feel the need to announce every little thing I do. Whether it is for validation, or just an opening for conversation is up for interpretation, I guess.
I have a mammogram today. Not excited. I have taken three yoga classes in preparation for my first breast squishing visit, as well as, my annual trip inside the MRA machine. That's an MRI for people with metal in their bodies. The noise the machine makes, the feeling of isolation, the artificial light in the hospital, the quiet concern of the staff all set me on edge. I have to carefully practice self-calming throughout the entire procedure even with a prescribed anxiety drug. Ugh.
My girlfriend is accompanying me to the mammogram. She is going to hold my hand, and reward me with dinner after. It helps. My mom is taking me to my MRA. She will wait, reading old magazines, while I go through my ordeal. I imagine it is also an ordeal for her. What anxiety does she feel being in the hospital where I have received so much bad news with her by my side? Will she be remembering how she went all Shirley MacLaine, in Terms of Endearment, when I needed better pain killers? "Give my daughter her pain pills!! She needs her pain pills NOW!!!" It makes me laugh, now, to think of it, but it must have been horrible for her. Maybe she will think of the last time she went to an MRA follow up and I was told I would need another surgery very soon. She had to stay calm and brave while I completely fell apart. How many years did that age her? Not to mention when the hospital nearly killed my son, and she came prepared to do whatever it took to get him the help he needed. I am so thankful she wasn't present when they almost killed me at the angio.
I honestly considered not asking her to go with me, but selfishly did anyway. I want my mom at this appointment if my husband can't be there.
Hospitals. Not my favorite place. I must remember that, in the end, they did save my son. They didn't let me die, and maybe they couldn't help causing this aneurism when they were replacing my valve; the reason I have annual MRAs and another heart surgery in my future. Breathe.
May you breathe through the scary bits with a loved one at your side. From, The Goddess of Everything.
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