Scientists know something about life, right? Like, the building blocks of life and the breaking down of it, too? The big guns, the nuclear physicists, believe they can tell how old something is by what they call the half-life through the decaying process. In its simplest explanation, the half-life is "the age determining factor via radioactive elements breaking down." How right they are. Thirty-six, going on thirty-seven… I’m feeling the disintegration already.
The scientists’ original thought of this aging process (aka carbon dating) was to determine how old the universe is, starting with planet Earth. If they could prove that it is millions of years old versus mere thousands and the universe billions, it could make the Western religions’ idea of a personal god irrelevant.
This morning I am surrounded by my laptop, a book on scientific discoveries that point to a creator of a finite universe and another book by an atheist saying religion and Mother Teresa are horrendous frauds. But while I sip my coffee, I'm wondering how I’m going to shower today before my mammogram and not get my stitches wet from yesterday’s mole removal for a biopsy.
Yesterday, a skin plug to see if the tiny dot under my arm is cancer. Today, a firm squeeze that brings tears to the eyes just to make sure the painful lumps in my chests are only cysts, if not glands. It would seem two different cancer tests back to back would suggest otherwise, but overall, my physical well-being is just that—well. But something of a different nature told me yesterday that not all was all right.
As my back felt the cold paper from the opening of the apron, the nerves immediately set in. Tightening of the chest, the short breaths and then the welling of the wet stuff around the eyes. I wanted to cry.
“Just take a deep breath and find something to focus on,” I told myself. The doctor told me the numbing shot would be more painful than the actual minuscule procedure. It was. I yelped and clenched until the burning sensation went away.
However, there was another pain--something I wasn't expecting. I had played it off as no big deal simply because the mole was so small, neglecting the very reason for getting it done at all had the potential of a larger picture, but I was alone.
The breathing helped as well as the thought of not wanting to look silly crying during the tiniest incision I couldn't even feel. Still, I had to look away and focus on the anatomy posters while biting my lip to gain composer.
At this point, the doctor finished prepping my arm. He pulled off his gloves to do something else before putting on new ones for the incision. He checked if I was doing ok. I asked if I could use my phone as a distraction. He got it for me mentioning something about Angry Birds. I told him I couldn't play it with one hand, sadly, so I pulled up the news instead.
Scrolling down through the politics, I saw some jokes comedian Jimmy Kimmel had used at a White House Dinner for Obama, “Remember when the country rallied around you in hopes of a better tomorrow?... That was hilarious.” “Ouch!” My doctor looked up. “Oh sorry, not you. I can’t feel a thing,” and continued to scroll through the news.
“200 Missing or Dead”... a ferry in India had sunk... The doctor mentioned something about my phone being a distraction, just not maybe a very uplifting one, as he tied two stitches off.
The nurse came in shortly to clean and bandage me up as I continued to read the news. “The new World Trade Center is going to be the tallest skyscraper in New York.” “Huh. Really...” she responds blankly.
If I had asked my mom to come with me she would have said, “Of course, honey.” She happens to be enjoying a much-needed getaway to Mexico this week. As I hear the rainstorm outside my window, I'm truly glad for her. But while she’s gone, I’m in the middle of a divorce, my girlfriend is on the other side of the country, and my other friends didn’t even know I was having a biopsy. It’s just not something I’d post on Facebook.
I held back from praying wondering what to even pray for and just fought feeling sorry for myself, and yet...
In the midst of my internal struggle, the word peace came to mind.
After the nurse left, I sat up on the crinkly parchment paper and realized... no… actually, truly empathized with my mother for the very first time.
The melanoma was removed when we were children, but the double mastectomy was when we were adults, and each of her four children hardly to be seen. There was also the time she broke her foot, which as since turned arthritic. And then there was the time she was hit so hard, the minivan rolled two and half times leaving her hanging upside down in her own blood. Then a few years ago, her husband of nearly 40 years died of cancer.
There I was, almost in tears for being alone over a speck on my arm, and that before knowing what it was.
Who did she cry out to when nobody was there in her unfathomable pain and loneliness? Her Western Christian God.
I understand the anger most atheists have at religion, particularly the Christian religions. The fear of coming out and admitting I was a lesbian in the Christian world which often believes I can and should be changed almost killed me. Some gays raised in the church, some not—both indignant at the church's response to who we are and often atheists for that reason. Who we are...
Who am I? I am part of the gay community who cannot shake the intellectual, philosophical, emotional, and spiritual necessity for something greater than humanity.
Standing in the middle of this half-life, caught in-between two worlds colliding, all I want is to be at peace with myself and to know I am not alone, and that whoever I am... becoming... or dying... I am not just matter, but that I matter. I’m learning that part of owning this philosophy is to hold on to what mattered to me before. My faith. Even if I don’t have it all figured out, it's always been a huge part of my life. Sadly, too much of it was religious. And yet, recognizing that as I get ready for my mammogram and pray for comfort as I hold the tears of loneliness back again, I can still appreciate what one great physicist said, even if he didn’t want to believe in a personal god... "Science without religion is lame, religion without science is blind.” –Albert Einstein.
The scientists’ original thought of this aging process (aka carbon dating) was to determine how old the universe is, starting with planet Earth. If they could prove that it is millions of years old versus mere thousands and the universe billions, it could make the Western religions’ idea of a personal god irrelevant.
This morning I am surrounded by my laptop, a book on scientific discoveries that point to a creator of a finite universe and another book by an atheist saying religion and Mother Teresa are horrendous frauds. But while I sip my coffee, I'm wondering how I’m going to shower today before my mammogram and not get my stitches wet from yesterday’s mole removal for a biopsy.
Yesterday, a skin plug to see if the tiny dot under my arm is cancer. Today, a firm squeeze that brings tears to the eyes just to make sure the painful lumps in my chests are only cysts, if not glands. It would seem two different cancer tests back to back would suggest otherwise, but overall, my physical well-being is just that—well. But something of a different nature told me yesterday that not all was all right.
As my back felt the cold paper from the opening of the apron, the nerves immediately set in. Tightening of the chest, the short breaths and then the welling of the wet stuff around the eyes. I wanted to cry.
“Just take a deep breath and find something to focus on,” I told myself. The doctor told me the numbing shot would be more painful than the actual minuscule procedure. It was. I yelped and clenched until the burning sensation went away.
However, there was another pain--something I wasn't expecting. I had played it off as no big deal simply because the mole was so small, neglecting the very reason for getting it done at all had the potential of a larger picture, but I was alone.
The breathing helped as well as the thought of not wanting to look silly crying during the tiniest incision I couldn't even feel. Still, I had to look away and focus on the anatomy posters while biting my lip to gain composer.
At this point, the doctor finished prepping my arm. He pulled off his gloves to do something else before putting on new ones for the incision. He checked if I was doing ok. I asked if I could use my phone as a distraction. He got it for me mentioning something about Angry Birds. I told him I couldn't play it with one hand, sadly, so I pulled up the news instead.
Scrolling down through the politics, I saw some jokes comedian Jimmy Kimmel had used at a White House Dinner for Obama, “Remember when the country rallied around you in hopes of a better tomorrow?... That was hilarious.” “Ouch!” My doctor looked up. “Oh sorry, not you. I can’t feel a thing,” and continued to scroll through the news.
“200 Missing or Dead”... a ferry in India had sunk... The doctor mentioned something about my phone being a distraction, just not maybe a very uplifting one, as he tied two stitches off.
The nurse came in shortly to clean and bandage me up as I continued to read the news. “The new World Trade Center is going to be the tallest skyscraper in New York.” “Huh. Really...” she responds blankly.
If I had asked my mom to come with me she would have said, “Of course, honey.” She happens to be enjoying a much-needed getaway to Mexico this week. As I hear the rainstorm outside my window, I'm truly glad for her. But while she’s gone, I’m in the middle of a divorce, my girlfriend is on the other side of the country, and my other friends didn’t even know I was having a biopsy. It’s just not something I’d post on Facebook.
I held back from praying wondering what to even pray for and just fought feeling sorry for myself, and yet...
In the midst of my internal struggle, the word peace came to mind.
After the nurse left, I sat up on the crinkly parchment paper and realized... no… actually, truly empathized with my mother for the very first time.
The melanoma was removed when we were children, but the double mastectomy was when we were adults, and each of her four children hardly to be seen. There was also the time she broke her foot, which as since turned arthritic. And then there was the time she was hit so hard, the minivan rolled two and half times leaving her hanging upside down in her own blood. Then a few years ago, her husband of nearly 40 years died of cancer.
There I was, almost in tears for being alone over a speck on my arm, and that before knowing what it was.
Who did she cry out to when nobody was there in her unfathomable pain and loneliness? Her Western Christian God.
I understand the anger most atheists have at religion, particularly the Christian religions. The fear of coming out and admitting I was a lesbian in the Christian world which often believes I can and should be changed almost killed me. Some gays raised in the church, some not—both indignant at the church's response to who we are and often atheists for that reason. Who we are...
Who am I? I am part of the gay community who cannot shake the intellectual, philosophical, emotional, and spiritual necessity for something greater than humanity.
Standing in the middle of this half-life, caught in-between two worlds colliding, all I want is to be at peace with myself and to know I am not alone, and that whoever I am... becoming... or dying... I am not just matter, but that I matter. I’m learning that part of owning this philosophy is to hold on to what mattered to me before. My faith. Even if I don’t have it all figured out, it's always been a huge part of my life. Sadly, too much of it was religious. And yet, recognizing that as I get ready for my mammogram and pray for comfort as I hold the tears of loneliness back again, I can still appreciate what one great physicist said, even if he didn’t want to believe in a personal god... "Science without religion is lame, religion without science is blind.” –Albert Einstein.
 | |
Mom and Me
|
P.S. TEST RESULTS ARE FINE
I am so proud of you.
ReplyDeletebeautiful...hold on...
ReplyDeleteI am just now reading this. I love you so much and I'm SO PROUD OF YOU! I celebrate who you are -- every single part of you, knowing that the whole you is beautiful, and exactly as you should be.
ReplyDeleteThank God the test results are fine. Let's catch-up, girl!
This was great, and I want to hang out this summer when we're in Brooklyn. Let's make that happen. - Jess
ReplyDeleteYay! I hope so!
Deletethis is a test
ReplyDelete