BENIGN!!!!

Here's the deal:

I have some freckles on an area that we'll call...my Upper Upper Thigh (otherwise known as UUT). I've noticed them over the years and every so often I'll do some contortions with a hand mirror to get a good look at them.

I'll leave it at that.

A few weeks ago, I had a gynecologist appointment and asked her about one of the areas, where it looked a little discolored. She said we could do one of two things:

1. Wait six months and keep an eye on it.
2. Do a "punch biopsy," which is basically like taking a very small melon-baller (we're taking anywhere from 3-6 mm) to the area and send that off to pathology.

What it could have been:
1. Melanoma (even though this is an area that does not see much sun)
2.Nothing.
3. Skin cancer that wasn't melanoma
4. Precancerous changes
5. Other miscellaneous and weird things found on the internet at 1:30 a.m.

Great. I think to myself: I sign up to run Boston benefiting the Melanoma Foundation of New England...and I get melanoma. Not hypochondria, but awful, terrible irony.

If it were melanoma, the area would have to be cut out. Believe me when I tell you that I do not want the area to be cut out. Or  to be cut into. I like my UUT. I've had only compliments about my UUT. It serves me well. It's not something I wanted mutilated or otherwise sliced.

And also: I'm 37. I like my life. I enjoy it. I have so much more to do. There's no way I'm dying without publishing a goddamn book.

So I was freaking the fuck out. My dad had skin cancer diagnosed on his arm when he was younger than I am now. I won't go down the whole family tree of health boredom but suffice it to say this: Cancer is rampant in my family.

If you know me, you know that I was absent the day patience was handed out. (In fact, I must have called in sick that whole week, because I'm also lacking in tolerance, altruism, and good will--but I digress.)

I made the first appointment for a biopsy--ten days away.

Still freaking the fuck out.Going on the internet--even though that was the Worst Thing I Could Do--and looking at pictures, reading stories. Even on my lunch hour at work--it's a good thing I work in the medical field where it's "normal" to have weird-looking items on my desktop, all in the name of research.

 I know it was scary and alarmist and not the advice I'd give anyone, but come on. You're going to do it. It's like not thinking of an elephant.

I spent a lot of time with the mirror in various yoga positions, analyzing.

I told myself to stop. Sometimes I listened.

I told myself it would be fine. Sometimes I listened.

I told myself it wouldn't be fine. Sometimes I listened.

I made magical thinking deals in my head, late at night and first thing in the morning. "If it's not cancer, I'll be nice. I'll be nice to people I don't even like. I promise." (See tolerance, lackthereof.)

At the biopsy on Tuesday, I brought my husband, but left him in the waiting room.

I made jokes. There was bleeding. There was more bleeding. Then I made more jokes. "Cleanup on Aisle 5!"

I was told I'd know by Friday.

I did more magical thinking. My husband said, "It's going to be FINE. I PROMISE." I wanted to believe him. And I also wanted to see what would happen when he was wrong and had to backtrack and then I could add another coin to the bank of Carin's Right Again.

But this morning, I thought to myself: You know what? It will be okay. Say it's cancer. Say it's cut into. It won't be so bad. It's not a large area. My health is good. I eat right. I'm a runner. We'll get it early. I'm healthy, mostly. I have support. I am loved. I have the most amazing people in my life.

I went to unplug my phone from its charger this morning and that's when I saw I had a voicemail from my doctor's office.

BENIGN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

What a wonderful, wonderful word.

The best.

It was relief like...I can't even believe it. Like sinking into the softest, best bed after the hardest, worst day.

And I'm more than happy to admit to my husband that he was RIGHT.

And I'm still healing from the biopsy and going to take a couple more days off from running. But that's FINE. I don't CARE.

And the other good news: My ferritin is at 49, which is the highest it has been in a while. So that's the bad news: If I have a bad run I can't blame my iron levels.

Yes, I am relieved. But I am really hoping I don't come across as smug. Please.

I have family who've had cancer. I have friends who've had it. Some of them have survived and have gone on to beat the fuck out of things, to slay cancer like Buffy. And some of them haven't gone on.

I always thought I was aware and supportive of people who were going through cancer. It took a scare like this for me to realize that I wasn't. I had NO FUCKING CLUE. For every ocean of relief I float on, there is someone else who got heartbreaking news.

What can I do? How can I help? What happens after I finish fundraising?

I don't know.

There is a lot  more I can do, or that I should be doing. I was lucky. Very, very fucking lucky. There may be a day when I'm not so lucky. I don't know what I can do in the meantime.

Last year I started writing down, at the end of each day, an "awesome thing of the day" that happened.  Some of those things were more awesome than others just in the way that some days are more awesome than others. Some days it was an awesome, dramatic event--requalifying for Boston. Some days I scrounged. "Good sushi roll that didn't fall apart."

I'm doing the awesome thing of the day this year, too.But maybe now I need to add something to it--because I feel almost...guilty in my relief? How can I make even more out of each day and make others aware of that, too?

I don't know. Ideas?

Delighted

Not by my running, which is anything but delightful lately (I shirked today, due to timing and weather--seriously, where has this slacker runner come from?), but by other people.

Today I had some donations, out of, seemingly, nowhere, from many disparate places in my life:

- A woman in my book group
- Two people in my running club who I've known for years
- Someone in my running club who I've not met face to face (yet)
- An old friend from back east that I've known since 1996 but haven't seen in about six years

People surprise me in the most awesome ways sometimes.

Monday I ran 4 miles. It felt longer. I didn't get to run until lunchtime (working from home that day) because of the freezing fog that has plagued Portland in the morning. Today I didn't get to run; I kind of woke up too late and by the time I realized I could run it was too late. So I did some core exercises in the basement.

I'm pretty slackery this training cycle. I hope this improves soon. I feel like I've fallen off the focus wagon. I've been aboard it for years, though. I like it better on the wagon. Things move smoother. You get into a rhythm, you know? And I'm kinda meh on it.

I'd like to say I'm going extra easy because I just want to run the damn race and don't expect anything out of it. But I need to put in the training so the race doesn't suck. Because that would suck, too.

It's a hard balance for me, sometimes.

Anyway, I wanted to post more on the coolness of people, and how it surprises me in the most delightful way. I know I know cool people, and I *shouldn't* be surprised, but...well, it just makes me smile. There is so much good in the world. There really, really is.

Really?

The last time I blogged was the 22nd? I am worst blogger ever. That's why I don't usually have a blog. I digress.

Partly it's because I don't like to post long things when things aren't going well. Much in that I don't like to deal with people when things aren't going well. A natural introvert. unless I have good news or something interesting to share, I tend to withdraw. Groups exhaust me. Having to be "on" exhausts me. I tend toward depression. When I run on a regular basis I can keep that tendency at bay.

Last week I had a good stretch. I ran 10 miles on Thanksgiving morning. Not pretty. But done. I did a (humbling!) 6-mile trail run at Silver Falls last Saturday (we will get to that in a moment). Then I took Sunday off. Then Monday I had the best run I had in ages. It was only 4 miles, but mentally I was there. I didn't feel like I needed to stop every 200 feet, like I had been in the weeks preceding that (okay, so I had an emergency appendectomy that took more out of me -- ha -- than I realized. but really, no excuses!).

But then when I finished that run, my leg hurt. Truth be told, my leg hurt before I did that run, too. It hurt in a different area than it normally hurts, when it hurts.

That scared the shit out of me.

The last thing I need is a stress fracture. With trying to raise all this money and 1) not being able to do that and 2) not being able to run on the basis that I am raising money from people who EXPECT to see me run? The hell?

That, there, is the worst case scenario.

So I went to the pool to do water running Tuesday and Wednesday. 30 minutes Tuesday. 50 minutes Wednesday. Thursday I took off totally. Well, I did some core work in the basement. Lifted a little upper body weights.  Friday I took off, but I usually take off Fridays.

Saturdays I do my long run. I'm playing it safe, so today I only ran 5 miles.

Well, 5.5.

Leg feels better. I have a massage scheduled later, which will be good. Remember the days when massage was a luxury, and not a necessity?

I'm blaming the lower leg pain on running in trail shoes that I probably should not have been running in, and the terrain being not what I normally run, and the streak of running I was doing while still recovering.

Let this be my whine of the day: I'm tired of recovering. I miss not being at the top of my game. And quite honestly, I don't want to even be at the top of my game for this marathon. I just want to be trained reasonably well and get to the start and the finish lines with everything intact and no bodily fluids where they shouldn't be. I'm tired of feeling like a shitty runner.

Okay. I don't really have much to complain about. I'm whining.

Let's go back to that trail run last Saturday. It was a beautiful day. Lots of fun people, many of whom I hadn't seen in ages. I've mentioned on my running club's message board that I am running Boston to raise money for melanoma prevention. Before the run started, my friend Mark wrote me a check, and it was really unexpected and appreciated. I tucked it in my jacket and thanked him.

After the run, we got to talking and he told me this story: a friend of his went to the doctor for something that he thought was a wart on his face. Doctor took one look at it and said, "I want you back here tomorrow." His friend had big patches on his face and neck removed--and still died of melanoma. He wasn't yet 30.

You never know what stories people have to tell...and when and how you'll hear them.

I'll really try and be a better blogger, by the way.

Fundraising Link

I'll put this elsewhere on the blog, and frequently, but donate here.