This Fish Needs A Bicycle

in full retreat

The first time this happened, I didn’t tell a single soul.

Two years ago, I didn’t say a word to my girlfriends or my roommate (who also happened to moonlight as my best friend and younger sister). I didn’t tell my parents. Instead of getting it off my chest (ah, the beauty of the double entendre) and sharing my worry, I carried it by myself. And it made me a little crazy.

I lashed out when unprovoked. I slept. I cried a lot.

The doctor had told me it was perfectly alright to bring someone with me to the appointment. Someone to hold my hand. At the time, the idea seemed ludicrous. What was I going to do? Send out an Evite? Saunter home one day from work and say “Hey, Sis. I have a lump in my breast. You’re totally invited to the biopsy on Thursday morning.”

I went alone.

Now, in light of my other medical issues, my girlfriends have been tremendous at volunteering to have my babies for me (should that be necessary), but this seemed a little out of the realm of assistance. And besides, it’s old hat. Tomorrow morning, at 8 AM, I’ll have another non-surgical biopsy. I’ll be a little nervous, but mostly because I know how fucking badly it hurts to have a needle stuck into my breast. In will go the needle, out will come the fluid. I’ll get dressed and go to work.

Did I mention this is my third biopsy in as many years? I’m a pro at it. I should get corporate sponsorship or something.

The first time this happened, I didn’t tell a soul. I blogged about the experience afterward – from finding The Lump, the waiting, and the actual biopsy. My parents read the entry. Why didn’t I tell them earlier? My father told me not to try to be the hero all the time. I don’t remember what my mother said.

This time, I told one person, and I’m surprised I did that. And here I go now; I’m making it public. It speaks, I think, to the notion that I’m feeling less inclined to be the hero these days. Stoicism just makes me get drunk early on Everything Chocolate Night, sending my apologies to the hostess the next morning. And it makes me ditch Super Bowl parties in favor of hiding out in the living room in my bathrobe eating Key Lime Pie yogurt and watching The L Word.

In effect, I’ve been in full retreat.

I’ve never really been one to say, I need help. Because, frankly, I’ve never been one to admit I need anything at all. I’ll just go out and get it for myself, thank you very much. But being in full retreat is starting to be even less appealing than being in need.

Even though tomorrow’s appointment is probably nothing to be worried about, I do think that if my sister were still here, I wouldn’t hesitate at all to say, “Hey, Sis. I have a lump in my breast. You’re totally invited to the biopsy in the morning.”

You know, someone to hold my hand.

Posted by This Fish at February 1, 2004 11:34 PM