Over the years, I react strongly to mammogram callbacks. After Janey’s particularly ugly death from breast cancer this last year, I worry more than ever. Then again, I have even stronger reactions each year to good news when they tell me it’s an artifact or a cyst. This year, having seventy year old, obese woman leaping about in your office with joy must have been quite a sight.
Hugs were shared. I drove home saying my thank you’s with a giant grin, only to get a call from Lessa on my arrival. Yin and Yang again. They can’t get her SUV running yet. The gas mixture is too rich. In balance, her housing authority has asked her to speak at a special dinner gathering for those who donate. They want her because she speaks from the heart. She has asked me to be her guest.
I remember her yelling that I wasn’t her mother and that she never wanted to see me again. I remember it clearly. Then again, I also remember that it was her disease yelling, not Lessa. Now us two beach bums, us two recovering alcoholics, will join with those that help keep folks like Lessa in a home and say thank you. Meanwhile, the Geezer get's to babysit a 6 year old Zoe while we bask with the upper crust. He says he is going to spoil her rotten. We really like this.
Not only do I, the mother with cysts, have a daughter back, my daughter has a roof over her head. For these things, you bet I am forever grateful.