Life Changing Circumstances - PART 1

SUMMER 2011

I haven’t just said, “I want one!” To a loaf of bread or even a new car. I’ve just committed to a house.

This decision is not quite as spontaneous as it appears at first blush. The following week I found myself soul-searching to make sure this big choice was not just another of my; commit in haste, repent at leisure projects. When I look back, I remember that in 2003 I had an event that stopped me in my tracks and told me to get my priorities straight. An opportunity to re-evaluate everything. The conclusions I drew from it – chief among them: life is short and sieze the day – have been affecting my choices, at a subconscious level, ever since. The Tiny House dream is one of them.

*****

SUMMER, 2003

I set the magazine back down on the cheap Formica table. No sense in pretending I’m interested in reading; Lose 10 lbs in 10 days or any of the other drivel meant to distract me from why I’m here. I unconsciously place my hand on my bulging tummy. Don’t all women get big stomachs when they age? But I’m only fifty, is that old? I think back to the first time I noticed something unusual. I was in Japan and was asked to lay on my stomach to receive a massage and couldn’t get comfortable. Instead of enjoying the unique sensation of a young Asian woman walking on my back, I was consumed with convincing myself that it was normal to feel something pressing on my intestines. I fidgeted back and forth, switching positions until I no longer felt it. There, see? I knew it was nothing. But now, six months later, I can no longer ignore my pregnant-looking belly.

A nurse opens the door to the inner sanctum, “Angela Leslee?” she reads from the chart in her hand and looks expectantly around the room.

I jump to my feet, my cool, calm, and collected cover blown. Oh, who cares? For once in my life, I’m oblivious to wondering what people think.

I’m reassured when I see the doctor. Someone so young, petite, and with such a pretty smile couldn’t possibly be the bearer of grim news. If I was to receive bad news today, surely the doctor would be an old, gruff man with a belly overhanging his belt and a greying mustache.

My mind is bouncing from one chaotic, ridiculous thought to another, looking for any sign of optimism.

“How are you doing this afternoon?” The doctor asks with a disarming smile. She barely waits for, or registers, my reply. “Ok, I see from your chart why you’re here today, do you have any other symptoms; tiredness, nausea, vomiting, unexplained weight loss?” She continues. I know she’s asking about other possible symptoms of cancer. I have a computer at home with Google on it too. And I’ve been monitoring it closely.

 “No,” I reply. “I honestly feel fine, except for this.” I point to my tummy with a grimace.

“Ok, well let’s see what’s going on then. Why don’t you go ahead and lie down. Put your feet in the stirrups.” Her voice is chirpy, calm, and reassuring. Probably nothing to see here. Her head disappears behind the blue sheet, and I feel her gently insert her fingers inside me while placing her other hand on my belly. Then with practiced precision, she thoroughly investigates my abdomen.

“Go ahead and sit up,” she says, pulling the blue draping back over my knees. The smile is now gone from her voice. She had stopped all the comforting banter meant to put my mind at rest a minute ago, as she rooted around in my abdomen. Leaving us both in uncomfortable silence.

I remove my feet from the stirrups and sit on the edge of the table as she removes her latex gloves and tosses them in the garbage. My mind has gone blank. It’s finally done making up stories. Like watching a spinning roulette wheel, where the room stills around everyone as you all watch with bated breath to see which number the ball will fall into.

In a brusque and businesslike manner, she continues; “You have a large mass in your abdomen. You need to go home and tell your family. They need time to prepare.” These words burn themselves into my brain.

The abrupt shift in her attitude combined with the shocking news leaves me stunned.

“What?” The real question is; why am I surprised? But I am.

TO BE CONTINUED - NEXT WEEK …