Suzanne Hayes - Its Not Cancer, Its Just Idaho

Its Not Cancer, Its Just Idaho

By Suzanne Lafferty Hayes

Copyright 2013 by Suzanne Lafferty Hayes

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever including Internet usage, without written permission of the author.

ISBN-13: 978-1493633975 (pbk)

Book design by Maureen Cutajar

www.gopublished.com

With Heartfelt Thanks to My Posse

* * *

Belinda

Lisa

Mary

Rebecca

Sheri

Staci

Susie

Whether you turn to the right or to the left,

Your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying,

This is the way: walk in it.

Isaiah 30:21

TABLE OF CONTENTS

MAY

I f you ask any mom with school-aged kids what her busiest month of the year is, she will undoubtedly answer, May or Mayhem as it is more commonly known in mom circles. During this crazy month, there are teacher gifts to buy, last-minute projects to wrap up, school programs to attend, summer plans to finalize. But most of all, this is the month when moms know we can cherish the last few hours of alone time before we become full-time entertainment specialists to our dear children, who will be with us 24/7 for the next three months. So, even though May is always a blurry whirlwind of activity that is hard to recall, I guess this is truly the best place for me to start.

To say that I dont like this time of the year wouldnt really be accurate; I actually love it and look forward to it all year. May always finds us perched on the brink of summer, ready to take a swan dive into cool lake waters, anticipating lazy, sunny days spent sitting on the porch reading books and spending time with dozens of nearby relatives.

It is always an exciting month in our house, though bittersweet. The kidsAmanda (15) and Jack (10)and I are getting packed and ready to head to our lakeside house and summer heaven in Northern Michigan. Every day on the way to school, we count the last days and hours left until our departure; our excitement level rising as the number of school days dwindles. But we are also sad to think of leaving my husband and the kids beloved dad behind. John visits us about three times over the summer, which is not nearly enough, and we miss him dearly, but his demanding job doesnt allow him to get away like we can. He wants us to head north to our family compound on Lake Michigan, and enjoy the beautiful cottage we bought four years ago that once belonged to my great-grandparents. If you add another great to them, you will learn that my great-great-grandparents helped start a small community of summer cottages on the shores of Lake Michigan in the late 1800s. I grew up going to Harbor Springs, this quaint resort town on Little Traverse Bay, almost every summer of my life, as did my mom, as did her dad. Our cottage there is my favorite place on earth, the place that most stirs my soulto borrow my sister Lindsays words.

So, in preparation for our summer exodus from Colorado, May is also the month I try to fit in all my last-minute doctor appointments, along with everything else I have on my to-do list. Gynecologist, endocrinologist, dermatologist, dentistits exhausting for a couple of weeks, but then the summer is blissfully free of any and all doctors and appointments. That was the plan for this summer anyway when I scheduled my annual mammogram for May 15th. I knew I was pushing this date a little because I am almost always cordially invited back to the doctor for a second mammogram, and I needed to leave time to allow for that before our early June departure. I have dense breasts, so I am told, and it seems like they always see something during the first go-round of images that they want to see again. Im past the point of freaking out about it because its become pretty routine. Well, at least I didnt freak out about it before May.

May changed a lot of things in my life. I mean, it really kind of changed things forever. Looking back now, I see there were so many signs of what was to come. For one thing, I just could not seem to get a deep breath. This was not necessarily because I was out of breath, but more likely because I just wasnt taking in any long, deep inhalationslike the ones that are so beneficial and nourishing for body and soul. I attributed it to all the rushing around I was doing, but I remember one day I just sort of stopped in my tracks, sat down and asked myself, Hey, what is UP with you? Why are you feeling all this anxiety thats keeping you from breathing properly? Chill out, okay? Weird. I felt like I was in a general state of unrest. It was almost as if my body were trying to tell me somethinglike Buckle up lady! Rough ride ahead! I had no physical ailments at allexcept of course for not being able to breathe.

As dreaded and expected, I was invited back a week later for a second magnified mammogram. I pulled into the crowded hospital parking lot that day, and because I couldnt find a space, I ended up parking next to the Rocky Mountain Cancer Center, which is the building next to the Boulder Community Foothills Hospital. I suppose anyone might park there and feel a bit squeamish about the fact that they were parked at the Cancer Center, and I am certainly no exception. But in addition to my creepy parking location that day, I also remember having a sort of slow motion moment where I watched an older man shuffling into the Cancer Center, his head bent down and looking at the ground. As I drove slowly and humbly by, he turned his head toward me and we made eye contact, and for just a brief second I felt such compassion for him, and felt so sorry that life had brought him to the moment when he had to walk in those doors. It was just a little chill that went down my spine at that moment, but a chill nonetheless.

The mammogram waiting area was packed as usual. Its amazing that I dont usually see anyone I know there because there are so many women moving through the systemadmitting, waiting to be called, changing clothes, mammograming, waiting again, finally getting the all clear to go home. But on this day, a friend of mine arrived as I was sitting in the waiting room. Shes a friend Ive known casually for several years and our daughters are in the same class at school, so we chatted and caught up a little. We ended up sitting next to each other again in the second waiting area, where you wait in your hospital gown while they look at the images theyve just taken to make sure theyre adequate. As we talked, she confided in me that she was really anxious because shed had a biopsy six months ago (which turned out fine), but this was her first follow-up checkup since then. She referred to that process months ago as the worst three weeks of my life! and I thought about how nerve-wracking that must have been for her. I probably saw her at school during this time, and had absolutely no idea what she was going through. Most women tend to be brave and silent while going through this torturous waiting. I now know that the waiting is indeed one of the worst parts. Later, I was glad that shed shared how worried she was because it made me feel a little less crazy for feeling the same anxiety when I had to wait.

Sitting there with her, I wondered (because I often wonder about such things and firmly believe that everything happens for a reason) if I was meant to be there that day to help her with the waiting process. When you are both sitting there, equalized in your vulnerability by your matching hospital gowns and shared experience, its easy to talk. After what seemed like quite a while, she got the all clear. Whew! I could see the relief on her face. Then I started thinking. Hmmshe got here after I did, had extra screening because of her earlier biopsy, and is already gone, and I am still sitting herewaiting. This was the first time I heard the distant music of the twilight zone faintly go off in my head. Wait just a minute nowwas she here to help ME get through something? Why the heck was this taking so long? Another tiny chill went down my spine, but I tried to brush it off because they always take forever with my images.