Those of you who know me and my political stances are likely scratching your heads pretty hard here, but hear me out.
Also, I love Jesus, but I cuss a little…or a lot tonight, so if this isn’t your cup of tea, pass on this post.
On September 10th, 2001, many New Yorkers and Americans in general didn’t care for Rudy Guiliani. His leadership style is brash, it’s abrasive, he’s not a “warm and fuzzy” kind of guy. This leadership style and personality for that matter isn’t known for making friends which is why on September 11th, 2001, when New York needed a leader to step in amongst fear, chaos, and tragedy, he gained accolades for how he handled the situation. His leadership style was made for tragic and earth shattering events that he can process while everyone else stands a bit shell-shocked.
This is me. I am that person. I’m not one to make a lot of friends and I’ve certainly rubbed many people the wrong way, but in a time of crisis, specifically in my family, I’m the one who steps in and brings order to the chaos, it’s just what I do.
Aside from being characterized as controlling and bitchy (both titles I don’t mind wearing I suppose) the other downside to this is that people assume when you’re in crisis that you don’t necessarily need help because you always know what to do in these types of situations. And the truth is, you do, except when it’s happening to you.
Tomorrow, I’m having surgery (if I could go through one calendar year without a surgery, I would be really happy) to remove at least my right ovary with the possibility of also removing my left ovary and my uterus. My GYN has been monitoring a cyst on my right ovary that’s now starting to not look like a cyst and is growing more than his liking plus all sorts of other junk now showing on my ovaries, add that to a family history of ovarian cancer and you get yourself on the calendar for an Oophorectomy possibly hysterectomy.
I think you, of all people, will understand me when I say child bearing was the last thing I was worried about when my GYN talked about the nasty “C” word (rhymes with dancer), in fact the first thing I said to him was, “If it looks the last bit suspicious, take the bitches out.”
I have a really awesome doctor, but, yes, I really did say that to him.
I have a beautiful, intelligent, amazing, kind, sweet daughter that I need to be here for. Bearing children and child-birth frankly, just are not in my cards and I have long since accepted that, so take the bitches out.
But it’s scary. And I’ve known for a long time but haven’t really talked about it and that’s how you know I’m really afraid, when I stop talking about something that’s bad. And it means that inevitably there will be a break down, not a pretty one, an ugly one, a very, very ugly one.
Which leads me to Christmas Eve. A, E, and I headed to Disneyland for Christmas because it’s something I’ve always wanted to do and well, now seems like as good a time as any to cross things off the good old bucket list. It was not anywhere close to busy, surprisingly, which meant that when we crossed Main Street as they were lighting Sleeping Beauty’s Castle we found a great spot right underneath the “snow” machine with a perfect view of the castle. The lights went dark, the castle lit up in all it’s beauty, and it started snowing on Main Street, on Christmas Eve, while I was holding my little girl.
And I lost it. I was literally ugly crying in the middle of Main Street on Christmas Eve. Not even a clean ugly cry- a sobbing, hysterical, mucus filled all out break down.
This is what happens to us, those people who are the “go to’s” in times of crisis when we have our own personal crisis. We’re so used to being the “go to” that we’re not sure whom we should go to. And people are so used to us taking care of our business, that they assume we can take care of this ourselves too. And we can’t.
So, I’m talking about it. A little late, but I’m talking about it because I want to celebrate with you when they tell me my ovaries are just ugly, not diseased, just ugly bitches. And I want to be able to lean on you if I have to tell you something different. Because while I’m usually strong in the face of adversity, this scares me, a lot.
And just for the record, aside from the ridiculously insane ugly cry, the memory of standing on Main Street on Christmas Eve in the “snow” with my daughter in front of Sleeping Beauty’s Castle is one that I will treasure for the rest of my life. I’ve had some amazingly magical moments at Disneyland, but none will ever top that moment.