Yesterday morning I talked with Sarah G. and she said that the radiologist said that the calcifications may or may not be new—they might be the ones that were seen last December and in June. However, they look different. For one thing, they are in a cluster, which I recall is a bad sign
My mid-day errands took me to the neighborhood where I used to work, near MOMA and Yerba Buena Gardens—the latter has beautiful grounds and often features outdoor concerts—and I was struck by how lively the scene was, what varied costumes people were wearing, how not every face looked twisted with stress. It’s also literally brighter over there. My new work neighborhood, amid all the tall buildings, is dark and gloomy and 90 percent of pedestrians are wearing sober business clothes and definitely don’t look happy or engaged.
After work, I picked up a pile of clothes from Sunny Launderette and noticed that Sally looked unusually polished. “You look very nice today,” I said, but she corrected me: “Every day!”
Unfortunately, Sunny Launderette is affording inconsistent results. One shirt retrieved recently was coated inside with some kind of white synthetic fur, and the pants I picked up yesterday, one of my very few pairs of work pants, were splotched with pale drips. I called Sally when I got home and said I’d bring the pants back in for examination, but I’ve decided not to bother and just to walk the five extra blocks to Pete’s, on 24th St. Pete’s takes many days to process an item, but everything looks superb. Maybe Sunny Launderette is trying to do things faster than is really possible.
I made it to Howie’s, though he himself wasn’t there (Tom Moon was subbing), and I didn’t tell anyone about my impending biopsy. I feel kind of ashamed of it, like I’ve failed in some way, and I also fear that if I tell people, they’ll think, “Wow, this chick is going to die of breast cancer,” because that’s what I myself think. The only person there who knew was C., who was sort of at my side and sort of not. Reliable support is not going to come from that sector. Thanks go here to the kind-hearted Charlie, who even from many rows behind me divined that something was wrong and asked at the end of the evening, “Are you sure you’re all right?”
While we sat, I was in tears, partly Tom Moon’s fault, because in one guided meditation, he asked us to think of someone who loves us unconditionally, to think of some problem we have, and to think of that person sending support and kindness. I thought of my father and the news he heard Monday night. I pictured my parents, whom I can visualize so clearly in their customary places in their house in Ypsilanti, and I missed them so much and I felt so sad.
I thought of a black and white photo of my father at 24, holding aloft a baby and looking at her with delighted amazement, and how my father and mother will soon have to bury that same baby. How terribly sad! Uh, can I have departed from the present moment? That this may possibly be happening has been pointed out by both C. and Tom. Pretty lousy day, self-inflicted.