After a day of dealing with the kafkaesque machinations of the medical administration system (and yes I've read Kafka so I'm allowed to use the word Kafkaesque in a sentance) it was time to clear my head.
The road bike and I mounted up, and sallied forth to Black Mountain. I've cycled up Black Mountain a couple of times now, and it's always hard. I always find myself stopping at least once at the "half way lookout" for a view over lake BG and a stern internal monlogue where I remind myself that I'm not going to die from the ride up the mountain, and that I most certainly don't need to puke on the side of the road. I use my ipod to time the break, and listen to the end of whatever song is playing, then re-shuffle the play list and cycle the rest of the way up with minimal discomfort.
The weather was perfect for a ride today, light wind, sun shining, cool temperature. The view over LBG was stunning, with the late afternoon sun twinkling over the lake. I mentally ran through my day's frustrations as I dragged the cranks up the hill. I'd initially planned on having one dr's visit, with just a minor inconvenience to my work day... How I'm laughing at that now.
What should have been quick and simple turned into a saga involving several hours on the phone, and /or standing in front of a receptionist's desk taking attitude from an eighteen year old who looked like she'd borrowed her boyfriend's concreting trowel to apply makeup that morning, a drive across town to pick up a piece of paper with my laboratory results because some completely incompetent nerf-herder couldn't use a fax machine, followed by the "but we only release results to the Dr." Followed by my "1) It's MY BODY and those are MY RESULTS. 2)Stick it in a sealed envelope if you want, and just pretend I'm the postie. 3)Why are you still looking at me like we're having a conversation you nerf-herder?... I've told you I'm getting these results. It wasn't a question, it wasn't a discussion."
I finally rounded the last corner of the hill to black mountain, the grin spreading across my face, and my fist pumping into the air as I made the circuit of the carpark to the map proudly proclaiming "YOU ARE HERE" which I usually High-five before catching my breath, and setting myself in for the exhilirating downhill. I realised my brain was still seething with frustration at how I'd been treated today. I checked the time on my bike computer, 3.40pm. Dang, I'd made some good time. I stood for a few minutes at the map, still running over the frustration in my mind. I took a deep breath, re-shuffled my ipod and rolled the bike gently towards the downhill, hoping that the steep and challenging ride would force me to concentrate, and leave the crap behind.
As always, the downhill brings pure joy to my heart. The mild fear of feeling my fingers slip in the cold over the brake leavers, the feel of cooling air rush past my face, the tension in my legs and shoulders as I tuck low over the bike, the synergy between my body and the bicycle as we lean into the corners, looking for the best line.
I reached the bottom of the hill, and the moment the road levelled out I started gnawing at my frustrations again. "but how could they be so disrespectful of my time?" "didn't they have any compassion for how stressed out I was waiting for those laboratory reports?" "don't these bastards realise that I have a bloody tumor in my body that I JUST WANT OUT!!!!"
I pulled the bike over to the footpath, as I realised that it was approaching peak hour time, and I wasn't focussing on what I was doing or where I was going. The last thing I need is a bike vs car accident, and not watching what's going on around you is a good way to have one. I took a deep breath, and remembered a conversation I had today. The lab results are actually really promising. After rangling and fighting, I have a copy of them. My tumor has been identified. It's a slow growing tumor, that has an extremely remote chance of spreading beyond my breast.
I'll need an operation to remove it, and until such time as it is removed, I'll be feeling a seething and visceral hatred for this little clump of parasitic cells that I've never felt before in my life, and hope I never feel again. There will be a follow up period, where I have to get checked out regularly to make sure that it's completely gone, and isn't coming back.... Really things could be a lot worse.
In fact, it's really a good news day. The practice of waiting for test results, waiting for appointments really hits hard on my worst personality flaws. I'm impatient, and I can't tolerate ignorance, especially my own. I re-mount the bicycle, spinning the cranks to stretch my legs, they'd gotten a tad stiff after being tucked tight under my torso for the downhill sprint.
Who would have known the power of someone who cares giving me a straightforward sensible conversation, and a bike ride to clear the head. I'm sure that things are going to be okay.
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