I have my mammogram today.  I’m really nervous.  I started blogging a lot harder when I had to get a breast biopsy in January.  The scary news, with weeks-long waits for follow-up mammograms and biopsy.  Ugh.  I learned a lot about breast cancer then, which is to say I now know more than the nothing I used to know.  Since my result was benign I have not a lot to complain about.  And since my mammogram facility is extremely thorough, I know now that getting called back in for more "views" is not as worrisome as I thought, nor is scheduling a biopsy.

But knowing does not equal not worrying.  Unfortunately I am under the weather, emotionally, these past few weeks.  What that means today is that any risk or misfortune comes in context of "oh, what now?" which is not a healthy way to view one’s life.  Yes, infertility is debilitating, treatments are draining, yadda yadda.  My resilience is thin and I want it back the way it was, and I’m not sure if I can get it back, the way it was. 

Yesterday in church I was called to affirm God’s goodness and faithfulness and it wasn’t easy.  "What about" kept popping into my head, as in "What about so-and-so’s cancer, what about so-and-so’s baby, where’s the abundant life, huh?"  The trick is for me to see my life as abundant even with all the loss.  Because it is. 

Unfortunately what we get fed all the time is how much more abundant our lives could / should be, how much sexier, richer, well-dressed, well-fed (yet thin) and supposedly happier we could / should be.  What I need to be seeing is how much less. 

I went through a bad, bad patch a few years ago when school turned into a brick wall – I wasn’t even allowed to take any classes for reasons too sad and complicated to go in to – and we hadn’t even gotten to DE yet.  I dreaded church during that time, too many friends and acquaintances with pasted-on smiles to go with some pasted-on, cruel theologies.  Such as: God answers every prayer and is easily understood, so we are just not quite getting it if our lives happen to suck.  I ended up stumbling into a program where I visited women in the county jail twice a week and it saved me.  Jail was scary at first but it ended up being a place of peace.  Those girls were messed up and many were doomed to cycle in and out of that, and much worse, places; but there was no b.s. there.  Life sucks, they get it.  No pasted-on smiles.  I walked out of there on Tuesdays and Fridays feeling a little bit ashamed about my perfectly good, paid-for car, my loving and devoted husband, my relatively lavish home.  My lack of abusive boyfriends, needy relatives, drug-addicted parents, motherless nieces and nephews.  Why does my life suck, again?  I forget.

There is a balance between not pasting on, not becoming a platitude person, ignoring the pain (which for me is eating it) and worshiping the pain.  Telling myself I’ll never feel better and my life sucks too much and it can’t be overcome.  I think the world leans, hard, towards covering up and saying we’re fine when we are anything but.  Like anybody who used to be very fat and isn’t anymore, I have to be as uptight about my emotional hygiene as I am about my fat grams.  But ugh, I really want to feel better.

So, yes, I have the stupid mammo today and might get scary news or even really bad news.  I’ll still be better off than most of the people on the planet.