my biological machine

“Potato Skins got baked potato appeal cause they’re made with potatoes and skins that are real.” The only reason that ad worked was the jingle, the cute little song that went with those lyrics, if you’re asking me, which you probaby weren’t because who thinks about this?

Me.

I’m the lady that thinks about this while dressed in a hospital gown (open in the back, please) and sitting in an uncomfortable plastic “recliner” trying not to let the flimsy fabric move, making my ass stick to the chair. (They gave me warm blankets and I immediately forgave all other sins of discomfort.)

I didn’t know if they even make those potato skins things anymore but I wanted them. I was craving them. I was salivating over them. Random foods come to mind when you’ve been fasting for a procedure, I guess. My big burly husband went looking for potato skins and came up short. He tried though and that’s the best. He succeeded in every other way on this particular day. His tender presence is always a balm, and so was the Snickers bar.

The long story short is this: I had a thorough physical exam. It had been a while. I was living a high stress life and my self-care list is pretty short because life is full of a lot of caregiving in this particular season. But let’s not blame that alone. Let’s also blame all the years of living like nothing harmful could harm me. I’m a recovering addict; enough said.

Maybe we can also not blame anything. We have these bodies with inner workings that probably shouldn’t ever stand the test of time at all. Isn’t it amazing? The pumping churning motorworks of a body? The cell work, the reinventing, the sloughing off and filling up, the valves and chemistry and glands. Also. A BRAIN. The computer-like biological machines we are, friends; it’s a miracle anything at all keeps working if you ask me. Sooner or later stuff just gets weird.

At and around the time of my physical I did all the tests. The pap, the mammo, the bloodwork. I had some questions about some weirdness. That weirdness was checked out by way of a CTscan, which uncovered some other weirdness. The colonoscopy and endoscopy uncovered even more weirdness (biopsies were taken and that was Friday so we wait). The pap came back with abnormal cells. All of it means more tests and more waiting, lather rinse repeat.

This got to the point where I can’t really worry because I can’t remember the list. Things drop off, like the abnormal pap. That’s an easy one to not freak out about. Happens all the time. The results that are scary end up being nothing. But yes, we’ll still try to figure it out. There are other things that are more scary, keeping their ugly fear-inducing reality at the top of the list.

Currently my life is appointments. Calls. MyChart. Prep. Trying to comprehend medical terminology. (All while caring for three children and my parents which is an excellent distraction but yes, it’s all a bit much.)

It is what it is and I mean that. It’s totally possible all of this could turn out to be a body making stuff that looks scary but turns out not to be scary at all. But of course it could be something(s) or Something(s). Waiting is a part of this of course, and in that middle space, I am choosing to learn and grow. Because slowing down to take a good hard look at your own body is not a bad idea. Oh yeah, that’s right, that’s where my colon is, thank you for sharing.

On the night before the most recent tests, I was grappling with the harm I’ve done to myself for nearly 48 years. The drinking, smoking, seriously insane amounts of coffee and sugar, the list goes on. I may be in recovery from some of it, but I was still lamenting it, really. Honestly I was sad about what addicts do to themselves; what I’ve done to myself, and how it takes so long for me to quit things that I know that I know that I know I need to quit. Then, at that very moment, I opened my phone, and the first post I read was written by my friend Casey and it said,

“There’s a lot you can’t fix quickly or easily, and when you’ve got decades of mistakes and regrets in your side pocket, aligning your course with your true potential can feel (like) chipping away at an ice block with a spork.

So if you’re in the depths of hell and can’t seem to fix anything or do anything right, just don’t make it worse.

You may not make it far, but you won’t make it worse.

And sometimes that’s a pretty huge accomplishment.

You’re doing a great job.” — Casey Coombs

Thank you, Casey. I’ll be over here trying not to make anything worse, one moment at a time. That includes making things worse by awfulizing what is happening. My ruminating mind can just take a backseat, thankyouverymuch.

No matter what shape I’m in, it’s a miracle I’m here at all. I’m here, wanting to keep going, striving to not make it worse and to let go of shame and blame at the same time. May that be true for you, too.