Fate, or as I like to call it: Serendipity
I believe everything happens for a reason. I also believe we are all connected in some way. I don't know if that's coincidence, or just plain serendipity. Even if you're not a religious person, there are just some things that happen that don't make sense at the time, but your brain can rationalize it later. The people you encounter are just part of that. Sometimes I feel there's a reason why strangers talk to me. This past week seemed to be one of those moments. I just didn't know it at the time.
For the past week, I've been battling a infection in my upper arm. This isn't anything new as I'm constantly having health problems, but this time I was being careful not to get an infection. Yes, it was from self-injury wound from three weeks ago. It was my first ever switching the method in which to do so. After a day of a high fever, I knew by the redness that I needed to go to the ER. The ER nurse cultured it and the doctor started me in on heavy duty antibiotics. Culture came back three days later. It was MRSA (Methicillin-resistant Staphlococcus aureus) otherwise known as the super bug. Good thing the doctor chose the right medication to use.
One thing I didn't expect was the ER physician needing to do was a breast exam. I had a lymph node that was enlarged. He felt it was larger than what would normally be for an infection. He insisted I get a mammogram as soon as possible. In fact, he faxed the order over right then and there. I was in so much pain from my lymph nodes, that I had to fight through it for three days. No pain medication. Sure enough, after the third day, the antibiotics started working. The redness retreated, taking my fever with it.
Four days after the infection started, I was scheduled for my mammogram. They didn't seem to care that I had a raging infection. Putting on that bra to go get it done was murder. Hurt like hell. Had to bring the girls in tow with my husband. While they waited out in the waiting room, I undressed, put on the terry cloth robe, and was shown into a different waiting room.
There was an elderly woman sitting against the wall, so I decided to sit by the windows. As I picked up my iPhone to check Twitter and my text messages, she began to talk to me. Most experiences I have start this way. I put the phone on vibrate and set it down. It could wait. She tells me she's a retired medical technician, and her husband just battled prostate cancer last year. I could see her rubbing the tie of her robe, so this wasn't any routine mammogram for her. As she spoke, I noticed how blue her eyes were. They reminded me of my mother-in-law. Her grayish hair mixed with white, framed her face. As she continued to tell me of her family, I could tell that wasn't what she wanted to talk about.
She asked the lead in question for me. Was this my first mammogram? No, it wasn't. I explained about the infection and lymph nodes. She begins to tell me she got a phone call to come in and repeat the mammogram. There was something "suspicious" on the film. I told her it could be a cyst, among a litany of other things it could be. Just then, the technician rounded the corner and called my name. As I stood up, I smiled to the woman and said, "Good luck!"
After my mammogram was finished, the technician said that I would need an ultrasound. That's done right then and there so there's no lag time between. I love that. No sitting at home worrying. I figured it was just the lymph node in my armpit. They led me back to the same waiting room, where the elderly woman was sitting back in the same chair. As I crossed the room to sit, I noticed she clearly wasn't okay. I knew that face. It's the one you make when all you want to do is break down and cry, but you can't because you're out in public. Thus, you try to pull it together and act normal.
Most of my life, I've been alone when I've gotten bad news about my health. The initial shock, the overwhelming numbness, the struggle to think of questions, and remember the answers all while fighting the urge to cry. It's lonely, and at times can be devastating. I thought of this when I walked into that waiting room. Clearly she got some news alone. Obviously, it wasn't good news.
As I sat down in the waiting room, she turns to me and says that the tech saw a mass in her breast about one centimeter in diameter. She was waiting for an ultrasound like I was. In a cracked voice, she lost her composure and she said,
"My husband is recovering from cancer. Who will take care of me?"
As the tears began, I had already left my seat, and sat with her. I gently hugged her, and told her that this was not a death sentence. I told her that she is a strong woman and could get through this.
The tech walked in and called my name for my ultrasound. I wished I could have said more to her, but there wasn't time. As I walked back, I realized she would be getting her ultrasound in a minute. I laid down on the exam table as the tech began the ultrasound on my right armpit. I expected that. Then she went toward the lower part of my right breast. I calmly told myself they were checking other lymph nodes too. Then she moved the wand up toward my areola. Now that worried me.
She spent at least 2-3 minutes on that area, clicking and typing on her keyboard. Moving the wand's aspect, and clicking again. Suddenly, I realized I was about to receive bad news, alone. The tech got up and said the doctor would be in to take a look too. I quickly text my husband out in the waiting room that I was getting an ultrasound. He asked if that was bad? I didn't know. My rational mind was saying that it could be nothing, but my emotional side was a wreck. I bit my cheek to concentrate on the pain instead of the overwhelming sense of despair.
Just then, the doctor strolled in, introduced himself, picked up the ultrasound wand and started in on the armpit again. He quickly moved up to near my areola, and began asking questions. When did the infection start? What did the ER physician find? Where did they say they felt a mass? How long was I on antibiotics? My brain was clouded by the need to brace myself for the impending bad news. He continued to ask questions and talk to the tech. He pointed to the screen which I could not see. He set the wand down and covered me back up.
He then proceeded to tell me that the breast tissue was inflamed, and several lymph nodes were enlarged. I thought, Okay, that's not too bad. He continued by stating the infection was most likely spreading into my right breast, but he felt it would resolve itself since the redness was retreating on my arm. That's what you expected, it's ok, I told myself. I didn't have any other questions, so he shook my hand, and left.
Exiting the room, I glanced in the waiting room. The woman was not there. She was most likely getting her ultrasound. I slowly got dressed, because I was hoping to run into her again. A twinge of pain hit me as I put my bra back on. Could be worse. I felt I had dodged a bullet for once in my life. As I exited the changing room, she walked through the door. Clearly she had been crying. It wasn't good news. Not good at all. She walked over to me and said,
"Thank you for your kind words. I needed that."
She then entered a changing room. As I gathered up the girls in the waiting room, I turned to my husband and explained what happened and what was found. He visibly sighed in relief. I put on my coat slowly, and saw the elderly woman rejoin her husband, in tears. The girls asked me quietly why she was sad. All I could say was that she had gotten bad news.
My heart sank a little. I wish I knew her name. I wished I could have done more. It was only a hug. I secretly wished the hug could take away the mass in her breast. As I said in the beginning, I believe we are all interconnected in some way. Maybe I was meant to be that person at that moment in time for her. I don't really know. I'd like to think it was fate. Some would say it's coincidence, and brush it off. All I know is, I feel my life unfolds for a reason. That reason is why I listen to strangers that come to me and talk, instead of being curt. I never know what I'm going to hear, and I don't mind it when it happens. Maybe it will happen to you.
Posted by kitterztoo at 3/1/2010 9:52 AM 
Categories: Facets of Me
Tags: mammogram discovery blog MRSA fate feelings health problems karma mass serendipity breast
Categories: Facets of Me
Tags: mammogram discovery blog MRSA fate feelings health problems karma mass serendipity breast
I believe everything happens for a reason. It might even take years for the light to shine on the why.
I'm so glad you were there at that moment. Rest assured that woman will hold you in her memory for life. That is a moment she will clutch to in her hard time.
You will also keep her forever in your heart and memory as she has touched you a well.
BTW you're awesome
Reply to this
I just finished reading this book called "The Field" and it is about the scientific research being done on this idea of connectedness. It also touched on healing and how our positive, healing, and loving thoughts can actually affect someone's recovery. With that said, you coming here and sharing this woman's story opens up the possibility for people to hold her in their thoughts and send out good vibes to her. I know I am connected through twitter to a lot of "healers" and you probably are too. Maybe we can spread the word and to help her....
On another note, I feel this way also about blogging. I don't see the results of what I write, but I know that when I express my ideas I may be planting seeds in others that cause them to start asking questions and getting answers about their lives.
Reply to this
Long ago, when I was in college, one of my professors in Clinical Chemistry discussed the idea of healing through prayer. It wasn't that it was that the person was praying to God or any other deity, but rather the emphasis was on healing thoughts. This idea was practically unheard of back in 1990.
I have consistently held the belief that when a person knows that they are thought of or touched emotionally in some way, they get better faster. Nothing is worse than the belief they are alone and no one cares if they lived or died. I encountered that quite a bit while working in hospitals as a nurse's aid/patient care assistant. My standard response was, "Well, I care, and you're not alone." More often than not, they would feel better and tolerate pain more, knowing I was caring for them. That can't be coincidence. Positive "aura" brings positive feelings.
Reply to this
Kitterz, i totally meant to comment on this when you orig posted it. your compassion and empathy humble me. i'm so glad you're my friend. <3
Reply to this