Nine years ago I spent a long Labor Day Weekend waiting for what my intuition correctly told me would be a breast cancer diagnosis.
This Labor Day Weekend is another with biopsy results in limbo, but this time it’s merely a possibility of skin cancer—and not even a very big or deep biopsy, which would mean a not-bad treatment if it turns out to be cancerous.
When I compare and contrast the two weekends, I find very little comparison and mostly contrast. I’ve had a little anxiety, but honestly, I think more of it is the memory of nine years ago than it is anxiety about the current mole biopsy. (I wrote about traumaversaries last year).
It’s interesting that medical concerns can get in my psyche. Because I am waiting for biopsy results and will also be scheduling a cardiologist visit, I am figuratively holding my breath a bit until they’re behind me.
I’ll be seeing a cardiologist for the first time after wearing a Holter monitor to check my heart a couple of weeks ago. I got a “mildly abnormal” result and will be seeing someone who specializes in heart rhythm.
So I throw that in with this weekend’s slight medical anxiety. I’m closer to the point at which I can let go of most worries about health situations (because I’m discovering that as I age, there will apparently be more and more of them).
It makes me think of back when I was in school. I’d breathe a big sigh of relief when a grading period was over. It was a burden lifted. But then I realized that being an adult involves an almost constant barrage of figurative pressure-filled grading periods—which never end.
So I’m learning to enjoy life’s pleasures whenever they come.
Because I realize now that there is never a time of total escape from some type of “problem” that seemingly hangs over my head.
To quote the cliché: It’s always something!
So this particular long weekend with the limbo of awaiting biopsy results was actually a pleasant one. Lower temps and lower humidity and the changing angle of the sun all remind me that my favorite season of autumn will arrive soon.
And I think back to the long weekend nine years ago, the one that started my cancer journey—the journey that I survived. And the one that taught me to relish the positives whenever they come.
Even if they come during another long limbo weekend.
Dwarf zinnias from my COVID container flower garden.