When the doctor leaves her personal cell phone number in her voicemail you know that the news cannot be good. I paced the house for four hours waiting for the return call. I called my husband and warned him. I called my sister. She came over. She made me dinner. I have a nice sister. She held my crying baby while I got the news. Cancer. Melanoma. Badness.

     Then I got the good news. Melanoma in situ. It had not spread. It was just hanging out on my arm very superficially. It is completely and totally curable with surgery alone. Then I thanked my Maker for the urge I had to go see the dermatologist in the first place. I thanked Him for giving me that new little freckle- the one I thought was a new mole that had showed up out of nowhere in the part of my hair. That one isn’t cancer, but the one I had been watching on my arm was. I had been watching that mole for months and thinking to myself- you know, that looks funny to me I ought to make an appointment. But then I never did, because I was so sure it was all in my paranoid head. But then getting a new mole was strange enough to warrant the call and the appointment. Now I am going to have lots of appointments. My dermatologist and I will become very good friends. And as of Monday I should be cancer-free. Thank you, Jesus, for sending me in to the doctor before the cancer spread.

      Ezra won’t take a bottle. Or a bink. He doesn’t like it when I am gone- even for a short time. It’s like he knows. He is even sleeping on me as a type this because the moment  that I put him down he wakes up. I have never left him for more than two hours. But in a few weeks looms a very big date. The return to work date. The leave my baby for 14 hours a day twice a week date. I look at him and want to cry my eyes out at the thought. Then I think about leaving my job- and, well, that makes me want to cry my eyes out, too.

     I love my son. I love my family. Work- with the required weekends and holidays and long shifts would be very difficult for them. Who would watch Ezra?

     I love my job. It’s my dream job. Intensive care at a big regional hospital. Exactly what I strived for during the last many years. I can’t leave. Leaving would be crazy. I work DAY shift. Days! In an ICU. And I am only 26 years old. Unheard of. Leaving would mean never coming back. Leaving would mean letting my skills fade. Leaving would mean losing all those relationships. But staying would be leaving my son. Staying would be logistically very difficult. Staying would allow someone else to care for Ezra while I am gone- who would love Ezra like I do? Who? No one, of course. I am his mother. Everyone knows that no one loves you like your mom loves you. Staying would mean going back under the iron rod of the scheduling gods. You want that day off-too bad! You have to work. I am sorry, I know it’s Saturday, Sunday, Christmas, whatever. But the hospital must be staffed. Staying would add more stress and strain to our lives. But leaving feels foolish too.

Can I have both?

        One of the goals that I set out to complete at the beginning of this year was running a half marathon. After my sister and I ran our first 5k in September of 2008 we had been toying with the idea. My work schedule was not ideal for this goal as most every race we heard of conflicted with a day that I was scheduled, but after several stalls and starts in training I did eventually complete the training and was able to run in the Seattle Half Marathon on November 29. My time was 2:18:40 a full 3:40 longer than my goal time of 2:15:00. I have had a cold for a week and am shrugging off the difference to the nasal congestion and fatigue that the cold has given me.

       This year in general has not been a year of wellness and I have burned through almost all of my sick time at work. Every time this past week that I have had to make that phone call to let my job know I won’t be in (working while sick at all is not allowed in the ICU) I am immediately assaulted with guilt over not doing my job and spending my days lying on the couch. I like to think of myself as a strong, productive person and sickness just takes that away from me. Our lives are not measured in half marathon times or how many to-dos that we get done each day, but it is so easy to fall into thinking that way. Feeling so awful has had me relying on God and my husband so much more than usual and left me realizing how prideful and self-reliant I can be. 

        I’ve never been one of those people who has 1,000 friends and I know what is going on with all of them. Shoot, I am doing pretty well if I know what my work schedule is for the week. I tend to have a few close friends and a lot of acquaintances.  With the addition of all kinds of “networking” sites like Facebook and MySpace and Twitter it has become possible to be involved- or at least electronically involved- in the lives of more people than ever. I know a lot of people who’s Facebook profile states that they have 300 plus friends. This always makes me very impressed. I have, um, 167. But apparently, not even that many. Today, a Facebook friend of mine commented on my status. I looked carefully at this gal’s picture and realized that I had no idea who this person was. Investigating her profile, it became quite clear that I knew her from work and I am certain that if I sat and thought about it for a while that I could figure out who she was and how I came to know her. But, really, what is the use of a relationship that is made out of something so flimsy that you can not even recall the details or the person behind it? Technology has allowed us to be connected with so many more people, but at a level much less deep. Sometimes I wish that people would call instead of send me a Facebook message or invite me out to coffee instead of sending me an email.

Dear Hannah,

You don’t know me and I am pretty sure that you never will. I have never met you but I feel compelled to write you a little note. Nigh on a decade ago you lived in the same place that I now live married to a man who works for the same company that my husband does. You and I share a love for growing plants and I would like to thank you for all the work that you did to our yard. I so enjoy the huckleberries, kiwi berries, cherries, peaches, apples, pears, grapes, plums and blackberries that you so carefully placed in the yard. The “secret garden” though still a mess is such a fine little spot.

I have to admit, Hannah, that there are many times when I grumble against you. Unlike you, I have a job and cannot devote my existence to keeping down weeds and maintaining things in their best growing condition. And I do not know well how to care for all of the variety of plants that inhabit our yard (Confession- I don’t even know what most of them are). Today, after weeding for well over an hour without even being able to tell that I did weed was one of those grumbling days. But among the grumbles I really do appreciate you. So thank you and please know that all your hard work did not go to waste.

Sincerely,

Megan