This past weekend did NOT go the way that I expected it to go. King and I were supposed to go to a housewarming in North Carolina on Saturday, stay there overnight, and return on Sunday to then prepare for the week. However, that is not what happened at all. In fact, the weekend went so far left that even today, I’m still looking back and trying to figure out what happened and what went wrong.

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Friday started like any other day, except this Friday was the day that I was scheduled to have my yearly mammogram. Even though my 40th birthday is a few weeks away, I have been getting mammograms for the past 3 or 4 years due to the suggestion of a phenomenal nurse practitioner. During my physical, she felt something that was not right in my breasts and referred me to get a mammogram. Like most Black women, the first mammogram revealed that my breast tissue was very dense, and a second scan was needed. The second scan showed signs of me having fibroadenomas in my left breast, and I was told that I would need to return every six months to ensure that there were no new concerns. Well, Friday was my time to return for both my 6-month checkup and my yearly mammogram. This meant that I would get the regular mammogram, and then I would get an ultrasound on my right breast so that they could look at the cysts that they had seen on my last scan. Basically, I walked into the radiology office knowing that my breasts were about to get squished and swished in the pursuit of knowledge and science.

For the first time, King was joining me for my mammogram. I was grateful to have him there with me, even though he was chilling in the waiting room because men were not allowed in the back exam area. After the mammogram, I could tell something was off because they asked to re-examine one of my breasts. The doctor wanted a more precise look at my left breast, and I found that odd because I knew that they knew my left breast had fibroadenomas and there should be no reason for me to re-smash this breast under the weight of this machine… but I did it anyway. As if that wasn’t telltale enough, when they called for my ultrasound, they wanted me to go to a secluded ultrasound room, away from the area where I was currently located. This new ultrasound room was on the other side of the waiting and women’s only areas, and as we walked, I asked if King could join me. The tech said that while he could join me, since they were running late, she needed to do my ultrasound first. I complied, and she performed the exam. When she was finished, I got dressed and finally put on deodorant before walking to get King. Upon returning to the room, I introduced him to the diligently working tech before we both had a seat. She typed for a bit before excusing herself for a moment. When she returned, she did not return alone… she entered with a doctor and a pink paper.

I knew.
In that moment I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that something was wrong.

The doctor said that my scans showed a new finding that was of concern to him. This new finding could not easily be labeled benign and would require a biopsy. To be honest, I thought I had processed the news pretty well, but King knew the truth. He worked so hard to distract me from the news, and I think I even placed it in my back pocket for some time. Yet in reality, all that happened was my neurodivergent mind delayed in processing information that was given to me.

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As the evening wore on, King and I were enjoying our weekly night by watching the latest Avatar. After the 3.5-hour movie was over, King had gone upstairs to game, and I retreated to the kitchen to cut the watermelon that my mother had given us. While I personally love sliced watermelon, King prefers the watermelon without the rind, so I wanted to help him out. I was almost finished cutting it off when an internal joke turned into an external reality. For the second time in two months, I had accidentally cut myself on my left hand and, like the last time, this cut would require stitches. In a matter of minutes, I moved from shock to sobriety (of mind, as I do not drink) to devastation to sadness, fully breaking down in tears on our stairs. King had called our daughter, Kastle, and I couldn’t even talk to her because I was crying so hard. It wasn’t just the fact that I had cut myself again, but in that moment the weight of my day had finally caught up with me.

To top off the fact that I would need stitches, due to the time of my accident, I would need to go to the Emergency Department (ED) versus one of the local Urgent Care facilities. When we pulled up at the ED, I hopped out of the car with a full attitude. I wasn’t mad at King or anyone else; I was upset with my situation. How could I have been so stupid, so careless? Yes, I had tried my best to protect myself, but clearly, I had done something senseless. When I checked in at the desk, I asked how long I could expect to wait and was told that someone had been there for three hours. I instantly got upset again, not at anyone else but myself. I’m no doctor, but I could tell that I only needed stitches, and the thought of waiting three hours for that seemed like pure torture. My attitude followed me into triage. The nurse was nice and patient, but I felt as though the walls were crashing down around me and I wasn’t the nicest. The doctor came in to look at my thumb, and after he left, I crumbled. As the nurse was talking to me, I said, “Today is just a bad medical day,” and then broke down in full tears. I cried so hard that the nurse came to console me. She patted me on my shoulder and gave me a box of tissues before going to speak to the doctor. The benevolent medical team expedited my treatment and was able to get King by my side for the irrigation and stitches.

As the doctor was stitching up my thumb, he put his jokes aside (albeit dad jokes, but the laughter was welcomed) and spoke to my greater concern- the biopsy. He reminded me that the purpose of a biopsy is to examine a situation before identifying possible solutions. He told me not to worry and to just wait until more was known. My heart knew that he was right, but my mind was just overwhelmed. While I was getting treated, King was on my phones communicating with my loved ones to keep them posted. Little did I know, but King was using one of my phones to coordinate something special for me. He had spoken to my good girlfriends and scheduled a pancake date for us for Saturday. My heart warmed to know that they would be coming over the following day! In that moment, the angst from my day seemed to fade away.

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When Saturday came, I was so excited to see my friends! By this time, King and my mother had teamed up to place me on “restriction,” barring me from any actions that even resembled work… and prohibiting me from even thinking about cutting anything. I couldn’t do the obligatory cleaning that I was known to do so the house would have to be what it was. When the ladies arrived, King said hi and then immediately left so that we could have girl time. Our two hours of conversation felt like a beautiful eternity and sparked the points that I want to share below. Yes, please consume these points with an open heart, but also share this with the person who pops into your heart as you read them.

Lessons from the left:

• Preventative care saves lives. I cannot express my gratitude enough to my former nurse practitioner for her insistence that I get a mammogram! I can recall a previous physician stating that I had “cystic breasts,” but since I didn’t know what that meant, I didn’t do anything about it. This particular exam allowed me to start getting breast exams and have my cysts documented. It is because of the image history that the doctor was able to immediately spot a new growth. This growth may be benign … or it could be cancer … but either way, preventative care allows me to get care now and intelligently fight for my life.
• May your heart be full but your mind empty…while in the kitchen. So often we hear that cooking is a gift of the heart and that when we cook with our heart, meals taste 100 times better. Lean into this theory! Bringing your concerns, issues, and burdens into the kitchen will only lead to disasters that can cause you both physical and financial danger. I am the daughter of a Jamaican woman. This means that I can weld a knife, and I can cook; both of my cutting accidents occurred because my body was in the kitchen, but my mind was not. Thankfully, I walked away with only four stitches this time… but had the distraction been worse, I could have lost more than just some blood and the insurance copay.
• Prolonged isolation kills. Currently, I am meeting with four mental health professionals to address the myriad of issues that stem from my past. One of the greatest issues that we are working on right now is my trust issues. Due to abandonment, rejection, and betrayal, I struggle greatly with letting people in. I keep everyone at a football field’s distance from me as a way to ensure that no one can hurt me. To me, that is sound logic- if no one is close to you, no one can hurt you. No matter how safe that sounds, it actually hurts me in the end. Keeping everyone at bay means that I miss out on the beauty of life AND it puts an unnecessary burden on Kiing. The beauty of healing is realizing how damaging your previous behavior was. In prior relationships- both platonic and romantic- I leaned too heavily on those that I did let into my trusted circle, and I am sure that that led to the death of those relationships. Over the past four weeks, God has allowed me to have a heart-to-heart with four women who mean the world to me. My conversations with each woman fed my heart and brought tears of gratitude to my heart. I thought that I could survive with just Jesus and King, but those conversations reminded me that it is important to fellowship with others. The irony of this all is that my greatest fear is dying alone. Well, living in isolation all but guarantees that I will do just that- die alone.

Beloved, when God placed this ministry in my heart nine years ago, it was for this moment- to share His story of healing with the world. I pray this blesses you, and I pray that you would share it with others.

Be blessed.