At this time last year, I still hadn’t gone to the doctor. I had, however, discovered something to push me along….
I was examining the new inversion after a shower. After circling it in my mind for some time, like an animal accessing whether or not a new object is safe to approach, I began to look more closely. I was still not really worried, though I was curious. I discovered that if I pushed inward on the breast, the nipple would pop out, just as it had done until a few months ago. I found this odd. Both alarming and comforting at the same time. I began looking at it each day, more more than once a day. Examining it as if suddenly the answer would come to me. And it sort of did. Prodding around, a got more aggressive with it. I felt around to see if I could sense what seemed to be pulling it from behind. And there it was. A big, heavy, hard, something, right behind the nipple.
For a moment, I felt a flash of warmth. The warmth that spreads over you when you realize you are in trouble. Big and immediate. It’s worse than the warmth you feel when you are 12 and have no lie prepared because you thought you’d never get caught, and now your mom is coming to ask for an explanation. It’s the fear-heat of when you discover you’ve done done something very very bad and you didn’t even realize it, until suddenly you were in big trouble. Like not realizing you walked out of the store with a fist full of jewels. Until the police have you in their custody. And then it’s too late to explain. It’s your naivety that got you in so much trouble and now you look guilty. And your mind is rushing to come to grips with just what has happened. It’s like that.
How could something so bad have grown so big under your watch? It must be something else. And just like that, the heat is gone. That would be too silly. It will be fine.
I will spend the rest of the next two weeks, before my dad comes out to Europe to meet me for our annual vacation, sending an anonymous question or two to medical websites. Just to be sure (right?). I will play with the weight of whatever “it” is. It is like a (not so) little ball, a “bouncy ball” perhaps. All dense and perky rubber, tight with energy. So heavy that wants to sink to the bottom if the breast, except that the tissue it is attached to prevents it.
Those medical sites will not alarm me. But they will not give me the answer I am hoping for. The responses are just as vague and unsure as my own thoughts on the matter. “Sounds strange. Go see your doctor.” Bleah. Again, not today. But soon.