It’s one of those things feared greatly: a mammogram technician wanting more.
After the first go-round with my mammogram, it was decided that I needed another. There was something there they needed a closer look at. They commenced yet another flattening. And then, they wanted an ultrasound done.
Shuffling from one room to another with heart refusing to engage with “what ifs” (yeah, right) it was determined that I needed a biopsy.
So, a day later I was back on the table for a slice and a snip.
And then the waiting commenced. I had the procedure done on Wednesday. I would find out on Friday.
The hours between were long. While I knew the odds were great and my own sense of things positive, those words I long to keep far from me and mine: “biopsy”, “cancer”, “abnormal”. Those words would pop into my consciousness often. The feeling of vulnerability was exquisite.
After making many phone calls on Friday, I got the news I longed to hear: no cancer! Things are fine.
My life as I know it is handed back to me.
The mystery that is life and the wonder that is body health is too much for me to comprehend on most days. On this day, I feel like I want to sit in the lap of the Holy and have a fine cry.
Tonight the organ at our church is being re-dedicated. I will have a chance to sit in sacred space and open myself to the wonder that is resurrection; ongoing, always, eternal.
For now, on this day, the stone has been rolled away. Alleluia indeed.