Letter to Edie

Dear Edie,



I got my mammogram results yesterday and they were negative. Clean Screen Number One! I wasn't worried. Had the mammo been suspect, they would have called right away. A wait, followed by a letter in the mail, is a good thing.



I didn't notice feeling anxious; but after getting the result, I felt surprisingly...better. Suddenly, I thought that the rain felt good on my face, that the Rec Center was a Utopia of human kindness and that the inside of the truck smelled nice.



I was also surprised that, in the middle of my run, I had to leave the track and go cry in the ladies' restroom.



I have discussed this at some length with my friend Shirley D., who had a mastectomy years ago. To be a person who has survived a cancer diagnosis is a great thing as long as you can avoid thinking of the people who didn't. Every time I think, "I'm lucky!" or, "I'm going to be fine." or, "Thank goodness those smart doctors found it early!", I am sending a joyful message with pain in my heart. I wanted you to be my partner in that good fortune, not the counterweight to it.



I spend a lot of time missing your friendship and wondering whether I'm living in a way that you would have appreciated. If you were here, you would snort and say, "Obviously not, since you're still mind-fucking yourself." You would prefer if I just looked forward, not back at all. Or, better yet, if I looked neither forward nor back, but just enjoyed the place I am in at the moment. You were a lot better at that then I will ever manage to be, I'm afraid. Still, I did have a flash of it yesterday. We might be able to call that incremental progress, huh?



Thanks for being a big enough, bold enough presence in my life when you were here, that I can conjure you easily when I need to. And I still need to a lot.