by Bella Rum
The last week or so has been a little disconcerting. Yes, that’s it – disconcerting – not the worst of days but the sort that knock you off your game a little. I was wiped out last night, but I slept very well. How great is that?
I had another mammogram yesterday. I believe the tech called it a pin point. She showed my pictures from the previous day to me, and pointed out an “asymmetrical area.” She did another mammogram and asked me to wait in the waiting room.
It was fine. They had good magazines. This is an important detail. I do love to sit and thumb through a good magazine with photos of beautiful and prefect rooms and gardens created by masters and delicious recipes. It’s a fantasy at your fingertips. So I thumbed away and imagined myself creating delectable dishes for family and friends and walking through beautiful rooms and relaxing in glorious gardens. Look what yoga has done for me.
She returned and explained that the radiologist wanted me to have a sonogram. So we did that and the final decision was that there is no final decision. He said the breast could have simply become more dense, and that would be nothing at all to be concerned about, but he was not 100 percent positive. So, it looks like I return in a few months for more of the same.
We used to go out on the river in my dad’s Chesapeake deadrise when I was a kid. It was an old work boat that he built in our front yard in the mid forties. Watermen use them for oystering, crabbing and fishing. They aren’t sleek or fancy, but they are well suited for this type of work. Once a common sight, they are slowly disappearing from the Chesapeake and rivers because the men who built them are slowly disappearing as the the bay’s bounty disappears.
Dad and my brother
He would sometimes take us out just for fun on Sundays. On days when the wind did not dare to stir and the river was perfectly calm, he would gaze in to the distance, and I could swear I heard him whisper, “cammie slick.” I think he was actually saying calm and slick, but it always sounded like cammie slick. From that time on, I’ve used that expression to describe anything that was uncommonly smooth and calm and without even the slightest disturbance.