MY VIEW
MaryLesa O’Connor: Don’t take for granted all those normal days
I remember the day like it was yesterday. It was a routine scheduled mammogram at my usual place. Because it’s so emotionally draining, I had planned an afternoon in the village shopping afterward, like I always do. I try to make fun out of difficult and challenging situations.
So when the technician told me to please get undressed for more pictures, I was annoyed at delaying my shopping trip. When one hour turned into four, I started to sweat and panic. I was now going to be late getting home to make dinner.
When the doctor called me in and said, “We found something that we need to biopsy,” I felt like I was going through an out-of-body experience.
The staff called my doctor right away, and before I knew it, I was watching a video about a needle biopsy and what to expect. I heard a clamp, felt no physical pain, but with two young boys at home, I was frozen with fear. I thought of their baseball and basketball games, of team parties and swim meets. I thought to myself, what if I can’t see them grow up?
The days that followed were a blur. Now it seems like a bad dream, and I really can’t remember how long ago it was. Is it 10 years? Maybe more, maybe less. My mother came over that Wednesday in August and made soup. It was sweltering hot, and there she was, stirring quietly, as my husband paced nervously.
I grabbed a magazine and picked out an expensive handbag, as if that would cure the possibility of a malignancy. I circled it and told myself I would order it on Monday.
The kids had swimming on Thursday. I sat by the pool and they took a racing dive, laughing and splashing on that hot day. It was like a movie in slow motion. My heart was in my feet. People kept saying, “Hi, how are you?” I walked like I wasn’t in my own body. I kept thinking: What if?
The next day, at 6 p. m., the doctor called. It was benign. I collapsed with joy, thankful to God. I ordered the expensive handbag just because. I called it the biopsy bag for many years, until last spring when I finally gave it away. It was time to let go, time to be grateful.
I have one in college now and one in high school, still forever grateful. I saw my son wear the white tuxedo jacket as he graduated from his all-boys Jesuit high school. I saw him play football and posed with him on parents’ day. He gave me a rose, which I treasured.
This fall my younger son saw the NFL recognize Breast Cancer Awareness Month and ordered pink gloves online to wear to his game. He used his own money. I was honored to have such a son, touched that somehow he understood, he knew.
There are many women who have not been so lucky. I feel blessed to be one of the lucky ones and grateful that we are all here to help.
I remember a poem from my high school yearbook and still recite it:
Normal day, let me be aware of the treasure you are. For one day, I shall dig my fingers into the earth and pray for your return.
Let us not take these normal days for granted. Let us reach out and help each other and, as the NFL is doing, be caught “pink-handed.” Together many hands make light work.
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