Tag Archives: health

The Actors Horsed Around for a Very Good Cause, or: So Many Words Are Slant Rhymes for Breast


First of all, let me emphasize–my health is good. This has been an intense year in so many ways, and one of them was going through the process a lot of us have been through, where the screening mammogram is followed up by a diagnostic mammogram and ultrasound, which is followed up by a biopsy. There were two main saving graces during those hurry-up-and-wait weeks. One, I was writing a poem every day about the process. Two, I was distracting myself with Heated Rivalry (which I’ve already written about some, here.) O.k., more than two saving graces: I also have an amazing husband and very good friends.

The results of my biopsy are that I have LCIS/classic (still called “carcinoma” BUT IS NOT CANCER). Because of that (it does put me in a higher risk of developing cancer) and my family history (mother and grandmother had breast cancer), I’ll be following up at the University of Wisconsin Carbone Cancer Breast Clinic. The results were a relief and I’m very happy to be in good hands at Carbone.

The beautiful men in my poem are two of the stars of Heated Rivalry, François Arnaud & Hudson Williams. (Also in my cartoon–I edited a screen cap & I very much hope THAT DIDN’T MEAN I USED AI BECAUSE AS HUDSON WILLIAMS SAYS IN THIS VIDEO, FUCK AI.)

Here is an Instagram reel of them grabbing each other’s pecs.

Why were they doing that? Well, Novartis has an awareness campaign called Your Attention Please, about getting screened for breast cancer. The site features clever videos with lots of images of how we typically view women’s breasts, including lots of cheerleaders’ chests, then cuts to black with this box:

The first video features Wanda Sykes at the end, and was shown (I’m guessing) on Super Bowl Sunday.  The second one is the same idea, same black box, but features women on the red carpet because it was shown during the Oscars. It features Hailee Steinfeld at the end.

At one of the many, many pre-Oscars parties, Hudson Williams and François Arnaud took their turn in a photo booth sponsored by Novartis, People magazine, and The Motion Picture and Television Fund (MPTF).

I appreciate that those two busy guys lent themselves (albeit briefly) to the campaign, and I also appreciate that they’ve been using their Instagram feeds to promote miscellaneous good books.

I suppose I am sharing this poem to do my small part to say do all the screening you can. I have been doing my yearly mammos for a lot of years, and I will happily do more and even MRIs as part of my ongoing care.

I suppose I am also sharing this poem to be a little more public about what I’ve been going through.

And also to let my friends know LISTEN JUST BECAUSE I NO LONGER TALK ABOUT HEATED RIVALRY ALL THE TIME DOESN’T MEAN I’M DONE.

Oh, and also, I haven’t yet scheduled my next colonoscopy and I need to. I wonder if there’s a photo booth somewhere for beautiful people to grab other body parts, those more germane to colonoscopy. . . . JUST TO RAISE AWARENESS OF COURSE.

Recuperator

|riˈkoōpəˌrātər|
noun
a form of heat exchanger in which hot waste gases from a furnace are conducted continuously along a system of flues where they impart heat to incoming air or gaseous fuel.

How weirdly illness changes time and goals–
everything sticky slow and progress ant-sized–
that our bodies heal at all seems miraculous.

Like trying to watch Venus make its crawl
on the sun a day early or while lightning strikes,
how weirdly illness changes time. And goals

become ridiculous. The prayer for normal
bowel movements is such a blow to pride
that our bodies heal. Of all the miracles

I know, I think now of my father’s heart muscle,
its pace currently regulated by an appliance.
How weird. Illness changes time, and goals

conduct themselves along a flue, heating fuel
and air like machines, leaving us febrile,
but our bodies heal sometimes, which seems miraculous

to me now, given how much can go awry
in even this age of advancing medical science.
How weirdly illness changes time and goals
into the age of fucking miracles.

______

Tuesday is my one-week post-gallbladder-removal mark, and Wednesday is my father’s one-week post-tumor-removal mark. My surgery was planned; his was not. We both make slow progress back toward health and normalcy, though I’m closer to home than he is, since my gallbladder wasn’t as big a villain as his tumor, and my surgery nowhere near as violent as his.

I was so pleased with my surgical team–if you read my gallbladder post, you’ll be happy to know I awoke in recovery with four x’s on my right hand. I did question the wisdom of asking for them in permanent marker as they stayed there day after day (but they’re gone now). My parents are pleased with Dad’s surgeon (and I have to say my mother is at a very, very picky place right now when it comes to health care).

What I tried to convey in the villanelle is the weirdness of healing. I told my husband this evening I was officially tired of not feeling well, which I’m sure means I’m just about better.

But progress comes slowly sometimes. This is actually the first villanelle I’ve ever written without having to look up the form–and I’ve written a lot of villanelles. (And then I did look it up just to double-check.)

Looking up recuperation, I found recuperator and I’m really loving the idea of recuperation as a machine–the product of science and reason. But there’s part of me that will always, always, long for and believe in the age of fucking miracles.

(Can you tell I’ve spent time watching the third season of Deadwood as part of my recuperator time?)