A Health Scare, a Doe and a Party Dress

Let Me Connect the Dots...

My daughter can be a tiny bit dramatic when it comes to health stuff, so I’m not too concerned when she calls to tell me she has some weird black spots that have popped up on her nipple. She sends me photos.

Now I am capital-C Concerned.

We are both worriers/investigators/solvers. Down the rabbit hole we go. She tells me she thinks it could be Paget’s disease (a rare cancer of the breast), that her symptoms match up. Scabby dark spots directly on the nipple area of one breast. Itching. Swelling. Down the Paget’s disease tunnel I follow. Shit. It does look like a match.

I immediately reach out to my brilliant oncologist cousin for her opinion. Jill is a no-bullshit, tells it straight person. I trust her 1000%. I send her the pics. She is concerned. Not capital-C Concerned but still.

Says it could be several different things but that Josie needs to get in with a breast surgeon as soon as possible. To make sure that she doesn’t leave the physician assistant appointment she has made without a referral. To let the PA know that she has a genetic familial history of premenopausal breast cancer and that she had a fibroadenoma removed from her other breast a couple of years ago.

Jill also says that if she has any trouble getting in with a breast surgeon in LA to let her know. That she knows the director of medical oncology at Cedars Sinai and will call her personally if she has to. Or that she can get her into Vanderbilt where she practices if things don’t move quickly enough in LA.

Josie breaks down a little and says how lucky we are to have Jill. We joke that having her in the family is like having an inside track to the oncology mafia. We laugh. But I know we are both trying to protect each other from our own highly contagious anxiety.

Josie lightly plays the WTF card with “Why am I the one with these weird health things?”

“But wait,” she says. “Keaton does have a heart defect.”

“Yes,” I say. “WTF - why am I the mom with the kids with the weird health things?”

We talk through all the scenarios. If there’s any kind of procedure happening, I will fly out to LA for it. If she really has cancer, I will get an apartment there for the duration. She jokes that we can snuggle in her queen bed. I tell her I will make her vegan no-chicken noodle soup.

I tell her worst case scenario this is another really good chapter in the book she’s going to write about her life. That the drama will be good for her story. Chris, who is now in the room, says Emma Stone can play her in the movie made from her book.

We are all keeping it light. But when I look at Chris across the room, he has tears in his eyes. I can’t look at him bc I can’t afford to go there right now. I have to hold it together and keep it light for Josie. She promises to call after the PA appointment and to FaceTime if she starts to get any info beyond the basic about what happens next. We hang up, and my clock watching until her appointment time begins.

Before the call from Josie, I was already in a high anxiety state due to a now completely unimportant work snafu. When I get off the phone, my body is practically buzzing.

I can’t concentrate on anything else, so I go for a walk on the trails. It’s a warm early spring day, but I have the trails to myself. I try to be present and aware of my surroundings, but the thoughts are ping ponging in my head. There’s a bench at the top of the overlook, and I stop there to center myself, breathe and send a plea to the universe.

“Please universe/God/energy of all, let my girl be ok. Let her not have cancer. But if she does have cancer, please let her be ok.”

I am not a religious person. In fact I am pretty anti-organized-religion. But I am very spiritual and do believe in a higher power that is available and present for us all. I don’t believe in a higher power that is like a puppet master controlling the insignificant day-to-day happenings of our lives or our fates. But I do believe that the energy and thoughts we individually and collectively put out into the world can impact our experiences. And I do believe in random miracles. So I pray.

Shortly after my bench prayer, I round a curve and come face to face with a doe. We are probably 35 feet apart. I freeze and softly tell her I would never hurt her. I expect her to bolt. But she freezes too. We maintain eye contact for a good 30 seconds. I slowly lift my phone to take a photo fully expecting her to flee before I can focus the picture and press the button. But still she stands there as if mentally photographing me at the same time. I lower my phone. Then she turns and bounds off. Her baby, who I have not noticed in the brush beside her, scampers away by her side.

I stay still for a moment longer, rooted in the spot where I stand. I smile at this surprise encounter and notice that I am calm. My body is no longer vibrating with fear or anxiety. My breathing is relaxed. I feel centered. And I feel connected to the doe who looked me in the eyes and let me know that she would do anything to protect her baby.

A few days later, Josie calls me after her appointment at the doctor’s office. The PA thinks it is an infection caused by boob tape Josie used when wearing a fancy dress to the Oscars party the weekend prior. She prescribes an antibiotic and a follow-up appointment. We are both bubbling with relief. The weight we’ve been carrying has released like helium balloons.

We laugh at the drama created by simple boob tape and a party dress. I promise to update Jill as soon as we hang up. We say goodbye and move back into the normal flow of life. My gratitude is a carbonated drink rising to the top of the glass and spilling over. I am drenched in it.

I change into my hiking clothes and head out to the trails again. I am hoping to see the doe. I want to let her know it’s all going to be ok. I want to thank her for her silent message of hope, one mama to another.

It’s a bit blurry and out of focus, but here is the actual photo I took of my fellow mama. Her baby is hidden in the bushes.

For more from Leslie Senevey, check out her publication Distracted by Pretty Things.