Today I made my annual sojourn to Mercy Hospital for my breast cancer checkup. So far, it looks like I am 11 years cancer free. Of course, the definitive answer will not arrive until the mammogram has been reviewed. As I sat in the waiting room, a mother and daughter were chatting back and forth about everyday ho-hum things. The mother was in the required mammogram uniform that all the patients, including me, worn – the pale pink hospital gown, opening to the front, in preparation for the squeeze. I was thankful that HGTV was on and a young couple was chatting with experts on how to spend $230,000 on renovations for a rancher. It allowed all the pale pink clad women to comment on the absurdity of spending that kind of money. One lady talked about her daughter and son-in-law shelling out another $6,000 to meet codes for their basement. Another pink lady decided that for $230,000, she would just build a new house and be done with it. It took my mind off of my mother, 600 miles away, losing her battle with her cancer.
But let me back up a bit here. This May 9th will be the 11th anniversary of my mastectomy and DIEP flap reconstruction. I stayed in the hospital over the Mother’s Day weekend and my mom stayed with me. Anyone unfamiliar with what a DIEP flap reconstruction is – its basically when blood vessels, fat and skin from the lower belly is moved into the breast area after the mastectomy. I can’t remember if it was the second or third day at Mercy when we first discovered a little known fact about the procedure, but when we did, it sparked a curious debate between my mother and I. The little know fact is this – when they remove the aforementioned parts from your lower belly, they sew your belly button back in to an anatomically correct location.
“Look mom! There’s stitches around my belly button.”
Upon inspection, she concurred with my morphine soaked observation and had a conversation with the nurse, who confirmed that, yes, they do indeed save the belly button and sew it back on.
“Why would they do that? What do you need a belly button for?” She asked.
“Its so I won’t look funny when I wear a bikini.”
“But you’ve never wore a bikini.” She replied.
“Well, I just might start.” was my perfectly sound reply.
She got it. She always gets me. We are more than Mother/Daughter. We are kindred spirits. A giving tree and a giving apple, laughing over the need of a belly button. Two years before my DIEP flap, we were together when the oncologists, tears in their eyes, told us there was nothing else they could do for my husband moments before she had to go to her husband for his surgery. Both Dad and Keith in the same hospital at the same time.
A year after my mastectomy, I was the daughter in the waiting room while she was the mother having a port put in for her breast cancer. Before she checked in, we met with her doctor, who was sipping a big gulp sized milkshake. Both of us asked where we could get one and confirmed with him that he wouldn’t go into a sugar coma before installing the port. We giggled over the fact that if she was a good girl, I’d buy her a giant milkshake.
This October, the two of us watched the scan of her kidneys, unnerved by the spidery tendrils and floating dark spots. But as usual, we walked away thinking “We got this.” Despite our resolve, her strength, Dad’s determination, the family’s love for her – sometimes “We got this” isn’t enough.
So as I wrapped up my wellness check at the breast center, the attending nurse asked about any new family cancers. I could only reply with “it isn’t looking good”. I couldn’t bring myself to say the word Hospice, or mention the inevitable even though we have no sense of when that is. When I got in the car, I had to collect and calm myself, questioning what possessed me to wear mascara while struggling to keep my eyes dry.
Mom – I never did wear a bikini, but today I did figure out what you need a belly button for. You gave me life and showed me how to love, and laugh, and believe in the good of everything. The belly button is an eternal reminder that long after the physical cord is gone, there will forever be an etherial tether between us.
I will be there soon. I understand if you can’t wait.
