Stars. I love stars. I enjoy watching clouds, big masses of nothingness floating by in my view. They move, change shape, stretch out into elongated fingers that stretch into other white masses. With the right climate, those wispy fingers form into other shapes, stretching far beyond the eye can see. A bird, running dog, bull's head, or Wile E. Coyote in hot pursuit of the ever-changing Road Runner. Comical in the moment, a delight to see and feel the release from within as the imagination releases, the tension melts away.
I saw such clouds the other day. Outside the sun shone brightly, blue sky. It was a sunglasses day.
Inside, the clouds had already formed - unmoving, they were blobby but not, with stringy hairs poking out, reaching out towards other whitishy, hairy brethren. This was white on black, a still image. A side view. Hardly noticeable, no Mickey Mouse or Flintstone character. A mossy looking cloud resting deep, hiding, actually below the breast close to my chest. Like a coveted treasure - it looked like a spoonful of yogurt that was sliding apart, gravity or centrifugal force drawing it away from its core. Just the one, about a quarter's breadth, maybe a little thicker, but wide enough for a thumb to rest upon.
What is this, this cloud, this deviant from my imagination? Why is this not shape-shifting into something I like, a tree, a moon, or a heart that denotes the love I feel for someone? It's stretching alright, but into what? More of itself or, worse, is it reaching out into other areas , creating toxic clouds that don't belong?
I don't want this here. I don't want to know that my right side has this misplaced postage stamp of unwelcomness that hides beneath my breast tissue like some sort of evil nymph or ogre under a mass of morning glory or outstretched fern.
I am healthy. I have no risk factors. I have nothing that calls attention to this cloudiness that has decided to stay with me rather than move on to the next environment. It does not enlighten my imagination nor release my stressors.
This cloud, this stellate cluster, this little mass, its presence is not welcome.
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It was exactly a year ago that I, too, experienced the clouds:
ReplyDelete"I was struck by the beauty of the breast x-ray image. Wisps of soft white marks floated within the orb, contrasted against the negative, like clouds in an evening electrical storm. I was mesmerized. These swirling brush strokes of fibers, these lightning strikes were illuminated further by a bright spot located near the top of the chest wall; a sun in my sky scene."
I wish you nothing but a good case of Fibroadenoma. Then, we can put the stars back in the sky where they belong.
I had a needle biopsy a couple of years ago for the same exact thing. It turned out to not be cancer. The worst part of the whole ordeal was the waiting. Especially when your mother and grandmother both died of breast cancer.
ReplyDeleteWhen all the tests have been done, and you have the results, lets hope it is a bright sunny day for you inside and out.