My One and Only House

I went to my physical this morning. I was due for a pap smear, along with all the other usual things. It was also the first time I saw my primary care doc since he removed two moles in the very same office last June, one of which turned out to be melanoma. It is quite telling that I forgot to mention that brush with cancer to my new therapist recently. I promised my doctor I'd tell her about it this week. It might be just a wee bit important to process that.

The good news: I am alive. More good news: Decent blood pressure, oxygen saturation. Height and weight pretty much the same as this time last year, so I'm not shrinking (yet!).

He wants my eye doctor to check my retinas for melanoma, since it can show up in the eyes but that's beyond his scope (no pun intended). He also said I need to exercise more; my lack of core strength is likely why I've been having wicked lower back pain. I don't know what it was about this small-not-small detail that made me want to burst into tears, but I didn't. No, I saved that for after he told me I have a considerably sized cervical polyp that needs to be removed. In all likelihood, it's just that, a benign polyp. Fairly common for my age, especially having borne children.

But the combination of things just overwhelmed me, and I cried for a minute while the nice nurse gave me a flu shot. She handed me the tissues and told me there was nothing wrong with having some feelings. Thanks, Monique.

Then I went to the adjacent lab and wanted to cry again while the phlebotomist had me make a fist first with my left hand then with my right, then back to the left, my tiny, shy veins ducking from her butterfly needle. Thankfully she found one, and didn't have to stick me twice.

Then I cried in the car for a moment before finally managing to turn left onto Route 9. Then I came home and cried a little more. I don't know where to start, I cried. It's just too much, I cried. Wah. Then I stopped crying and got back to work and saw that Monisha's book is out and got all verklempt because she called me a brilliant editor and she had a vision and now it's a real thing. Then I continued not to cry and made an appointment with the gynecologist for December 6 and the eye doctor for October 24.

Sometimes self-care feels like it could and should be a full-time job. Physical health, mental and emotional health. I mean, who has time for all of this? Exercise, eating well, meditation, therapy, sleep -- oh, then there is work. Work! And meeting with the new accountant on Wednesday and being present with my clients and groups and wife and kids. It's a lot. It's a full plate. It's a beautiful life.

And this is the part where I remember that it is a gift. I am well. All of this is in the realm of wellness and staying well so THAT I can continue to work and love and write and appreciate the way the sun came out today, even though this morning's fog and cloud cover looked utterly hopeless.

Overwhelm happens. And thankfully, so does perspective. Taking a moment to acknowledge the validity of both, and ultimately, having a moment of gratitude. Because this body is my one and only house, and if I don't take care of it, where will I live?