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Right Here, Right Now

…I gotta keep reminding myself this is where I need to fucking reside
mind-blowing…

I’ve been on an emotional rollercoaster for the past few months… One that has kept me sidelined, both mentally and physically, in a vice grip in this game called life. To say I’m out of the doldrums would be an understatement but the wheels in this noggin of mine are beginning to churn in a more productive way.

All thanks to the cyst in my right breast.

Who knew that a mass of tissue smaller than the size of a green pea had the potential to cause so much anxiety and stress? But for 72 hours, it did. For 72 hours, I had no idea what was going on with my own body and it drove me nuts. Hell, it drove my friends nuts! 

I’ve had family members diagnosed with and die from breast cancer. For the most part, I was a bystander experiencing this damning circle of life. I know I’ve said this more than once, but the women in my family are like Teflon. Nothing ever sticks and what does gets handled with a ferocity that scares most able-bodied men. 

But to have that shit potentially darken my own doorstep? FUCK. THAT!

Any resolve I had evaporated when I was told I’d need to have an ultrasound done after my annual mammogram. I spent an entire weekend reconfiguring my life all because of a mass I didn’t know was developing in my right breast. 

I love my breasts! Was I going to have to say goodbye to them? Cut them off to save my life? Was I going to have to go through chemotherapy? Radiation? Was I going to have to experience my innards looking and feeling wretched beyond reason? I know some strong ass women who have survived, even thrived through various types of cancer, but would I be strong enough to endure? Or would I be the bitch that tapped out in round one? Despite having a will, I began to map out how to make use of what little I had to help take care of my parents, sister and a few others I hold dear.

You’ve gathered by now that I’m one of those people who arrives at the worst-case scenario before any professional consultation. Although I was told it might be “nothing” but they had to be sure, what I heard was, “Bitch, get your affairs in order because you’re about to die.”

There’s nothing like a good old-fashioned life scare to send you into a spiral of toxic self-loathing. My girl tribe members were alerted and words of reassurance poured in.  Those ladies know me best – they knew exactly where my mind would go. It wasn’t pretty. 

I did a lot between January and July of this year. From new projects to travel, quitting one job, and embarking on the journey as a self-employed person, I had maxed myself out emotionally, mentally, physically and spiritually. When I returned home in August, I desperately needed to detox from all I had experienced. What I didn’t anticipate was shutting down completely. 

My thought processes crashed, and I went on autopilot. For two months any activity beyond bathing, eating and signing onto my laptop ceased. I have never slept so much in my life. Pretty sure my idea of rest morphed into that ultimate sin called sloth. I’ll have to look it up to be sure. 

It was an insane out-of-body experience at times, watching myself slip deeper and deeper into a version of myself that I never knew, or thought was even possible. I was devoid of activity or the free spirit I was accustomed to. At the forefront was a lack of desire, a lack of wanting. All the while there was this other part of me screaming at myself daily, “Yo! Get the fuck up! You can’t do this to yourself. Yolo is literally Yolo. You can’t mess this up.”

I guess the universe decided to take matters into its own hands with a white ball in a mass of gray matter on a computer screen.  So bright and pronounced and round – the very features that apparently save me at this juncture. 

Benign. 

Benign was the word everybody was hoping to hear. Benign was the word my friend, Shavanti, who served as my support system on ultrasound day, said was the only outcome. And it was. Both she and the technician who guided that magic wand in a clockwise direction around my right breast were as reassuring as they could be as I lay exposed to the clinic’s air, contemplating everything I’d failed to accomplish in life before the doctor came in and said the word, “Benign.” 

The dam holding back waves of relief crumbled and I got lightheaded. Lightheaded and happy and regretful and excited and optimistic and calm. According to my doctor, many women have growths in their breasts that are benign. This was my first and I pray, my only scare like this.

I was on autopilot heading home. My mind raced with thoughts about one thing that made me bypass food, my parents’ house and the cases of water I was supposed to purchase. 

I had to look it up manually so I could touch the pages of my own dictionary. The opposite of benign is malignant. I don’t ever want to know THAT first-hand. I never want to experience it in any part of my life – cancer or otherwise. 

So, I’m writing again. I have work to do and thank God I got a clean bill of health and I am able to do the work that so many others are not afforded the ability to do. 

Life is hard, but life’s still good. I can’t complain about hard when what comes with hard is also good. I’m getting to a good place. I am beginning to experience a good place. This swift kick in the ass revived the dreams and desires tucked away in this brain of mine. The wheels are finally moving again. Things are starting to unfold. All at once, there’s a whole lot more other shit I have in my head that I’m trying not to worry about. Thankfully, breast cancer is not one of them. 


Song: Right Here, Right Now
Artist: Fatboy Slim
Album: You’ve Come a Long Way, Baby
Release date: 1998

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