Wednesday, 5/2/18


I went in for something called a Lymphoscintigraphy today. This has to be done prior to the mastectomy so the surgeon can identify the lymph node(s) that may be draining the cancer. The nurse gave me two numbing shots and then injected a radioactive isotope, followed by a scan of some sort. The lymph node will be blue so the surgeon can easily locate it tomorrow during the procedure. I’m a little sore from it, but it was a nothing burger, really. I did feel some strange little stings in my chest wall and left arm about 15 minutes later, but it’s gone now.


Ken and I went to mass today at Holy Rosary Church. I just needed to. I cried because I’m nervous. Plus, I always cry when I go to church. Back in my ’20’s, a religious friend told me it was because the holy spirit was getting into me. I happen to think it’s because I feel moved, maybe safe. Either way, I’m ok with it.


I’m washing everything on sanitize mode so there’ll be fewer chances of anything interrupting my recovery. Such a long process and lots of loads, just to be thorough. I have to shower with a medicated soap tonight and again tomorrow morning. Clean, clean and more clean.


When Ken had his thyroid cancer, he used to whine when I’d play fight with him, “You’re hurting my cancer!” Back then we were both scared and, as is always the case with Ken, he knew how to put a laugh back in the mix. This morning we were competing to get through a tight space in the house and I complained, “You’re hurting my cancer!” He tried to tell me that’s his line, it’s copyright infringement. We finally agreed in the car that the line may be used by whoever cancer is affecting at the time. We’re assuming we’ll have to come up with a different line here soon, anyway. It’s fun getting him back, though.


I’m going back and forth — fight or flight. This morning I woke up to a full on anxiety attack. This would be the last morning I would look like this, feel like that, be able to do this or be able to do that. I thought I’d lose it getting the shots and dye, considering the earlier meltdown, but nothing. I’m now writing and focusing, so all is aligned. Tonight, going to sleep, I imagine it will hit me again. Time to remember that one word I’ve been repeating for months. Trust.

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Christine Cadiz

Houston-based writer making contributions through truth- and story-telling. Sometimes dark, often insubordinate, and always raw, a balance is struck in each conclusion that evokes a sense of resolve to the absurd drama so intricately woven into our human experience. You will find short stories sometimes based in truth, true stories sometimes based in harsh reality, musings that may strike a nerve, writing prompts just for fun, and a novel or two in the works. Welcome, and thank you for reading. Christine Cadiz was born in Port of Spain, Trinidad in 1964. She was a kid in the Florida Keys and an adult in Miami. She's been writing since she was nine-years-old and was a Journalism major before leaving college to work. Christine worked in marketing and advertising for seventeen years. She stayed in Florida for forty-three years before relocating to North Carolina and then Texas with her family. She has three daughters and currently resides in Houston.

3 thoughts on “Wednesday, 5/2/18”

  1. Christine,
    Your courage, strength and support from your family and friends will get you through this challenge. Praying for you and trusting that your doctors will make sure everything goes beautifully with your surgery and you have a quick recovery.
    XO – Sheri

    Liked by 1 person

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