2 Questions...

Today, I woke up with pain in my breast. The same breast Dr Asimota removed a lump from when I was 22. As I walked to the bathroom to strip and do a self exam, I remembered the feel of pain and fear and sadness as they yanked at my heart the last time I saw Aunty D. At that time, we all subconsciously knew that we would most likely loose her to the cancer that had eaten through her. She looked dark and thin and frail and like a shadow of herself. 

Aunty D was the shiniest of all my blood aunties. My fondest memory of her is the one of my holiday at her house. I don't remember how old I was or the name of the house boy that lived with her but I clearly remember the crabs. The house boy brought them into the kitchen while I was with Aunty D and I was so afraid. I had never seen live crabs before. Aunty D held me. She showed me where to poke a knife and stop the crab from crawling. She showed me how to prep it and cook it. Most importantly, she opened my taste buds to the scintillating experience of sucking on crab legs and pretty much, set me up to enjoy sea food. Almost every time I eat a shrimp or a lobster she crosses my mind. Every time I eat crab or see crabs, even on spongebob, Aunty D comes to mind.

As I took off my sweater in front of the mirror and raised my right hand to my breast, I wondered if she would have been spared if she had done the exact same thing. I wondered if lifting her right hand to her breast when she felt a pain in her breast one random morning could have saved her life.

Then my mind drifted to the day I noticed the lump in my breast when I was 22.

My friend, Tinu, had come by to visit. I think she was more afraid than I was as we walked to Dr Asimota's hospital to check it out. I remember her trying so hard to smile but I could see the nervousness and anxiety. I don't remember how I felt. Maybe I was numb or maybe it was so heavy an emotion that my mind has locked it away in a compartment too deep for me to access.

As I made the circular motions, feeling for strange lumps and looking out for swellings, I wondered what the story would be if I indeed found one. I wondered if I would survive. I thought about what my obituary would read. And then I smiled. A smile of content with a tinge of sadness.

I think I just might have the chance to make a mark before I die...to do something that lives on after I'm gone. I was content.

It is not easy constantly remembering that you have been under the knife one too many times, and you have been told by doctors to be careful and not overlook the slightest things. I was sad.

As I pulled on my sweater, my mind cursed the confused weather for the pain I felt. The extreme chill I experienced yesterday morning after the beautiful warmth the day before, must have done a number on me. Just before I climbed back into bed with hopes that I would keep dreaming of the words I needed to put in the script I fell asleep working on, I pulled open my laptop and thought to ask 2 questions:

"How will you be remembered when you die?" 

"When last did you do a breast exam?"

Photo credit

http://www.nickscipio.com/pod/media/2012/08/