Each day I drive by a stand of birch trees and always mentally appreciate them {I drive by countless stands, but this set is near the house}. I love everything about them. Sometimes when I gaze back into the trees I can see deer looking back.
It's been a different week. January has been good. It's been full of cozy evenings with good books, a few new pass times such as a knitting class and dog obedience class with Jewel, a few cross country skiing classes, and plenty of long walks in the wintry air.
Last Friday I had a "wellness" appointment. I'd been fit in at the very end of the day and although I hate such appointments for some reason thought I would get it out of the way for the year as soon as possible. It ended up in a somewhat chaotic insistence to get a mammogram before the end of the business day by my doctor. At first there was joking about how I was under the age limit by the technician, and then there was a different tone altogether and a trip to the next room over for an ultrasound. I have honestly never thought about cancer in terms of me getting it although there is family history--it just never crossed my mind. As it all went down on Friday and I was refereed to a specialist in Fargo, my mind went completely numb. I was nervous going to Fargo, mostly because I had no idea what to expect. In the end it was calming. In Bemidji the idea that this might be nothing was never thrown out there. It was as if things needed to progress as quickly as possible and "treatment plan" was mentioned several times. I learned 80% of things like this are really nothing at all in Fargo. You never hear that. You always get the impression that a lump means the worst. Tuesday was spent reading about how cannibals serve up their meals in the Amazon from my current read and continuing to plan the garden in quiet, low light waiting rooms, so I guess it could be chalked up as a halfway decent day. Somewhere in my mind over the week I came to a decision that I was tired of reacting to everything that comes my way. Whatever happens happens. That's simple to say, but I honestly felt that way by the end of the week. I was telling myself I was ready. I found myself thinking that whatever there was, if it was something, was being caught early and could be taken care of, but then would reassure myself that after all, only 10% of things like this were something at all. In the end I found out that both lumps were benign. Leaving from the final appointment my mind felt clearer than it has in a long, long time. I didn't tell much of anyone what was happening besides my Mom, because it all sounded crazy, and so my way of celebrating the good news was to go home and stand by the birch trees. It was perfect though.
It may sound contrite, but if anything this has been the kick in the pants I've needed to let some things go and keep other things around, realize what's important to me, commit to not drinking diet mt. dew, and make some plans to get life moving the direction I want it going in, but mostly it feels like some sort of curtain has been lifted and things look amazingly good. Even the birch trees looked especially wonderful.
When I plant this year it will be hard not to remember planning in that waiting room. It will add a little bit more zest for life in general and how good I actually have it right now for sure. And I'm feeling especially attached to those birch trees that have had a habit of cheering me up, celebrating with me, and making me slow down these past few months.
This whole rigmarole has me big time questioning this whole health care thing and the methods and reasoning and motives of the healthcare industry in general. I heard an NPR story not too long ago that said yearly checkups for anyone under 45 are not necessary unless problems arise. I'm starting to feel less is more right about now.
