Every few months or so, I go to confession and one of the things that I typically talk to the priest about is my failure to commit things to prayer. It is not as if I never pray... I do. Just not like I should.
I don't sleep much, and every morning when I tell Cheryl that I was up all night, she asks if I said my prayers.
How can I pray when I am trying to get past level 267 of Candy Crush?
I know what you are thinking... Level 267? That guy is awesome!
I know. I am.
Exhausted... but awesome.
Now, please, don't misunderstand; I can break out a pretty good prayer before a big family gathering. And not just the typical Bless us O Lord and these thy gifts prayer... but more of a freestyle rap kind of prayer, where I weave in and out, mentioning those people with us, those that are missing, those that prepared the meal, and those that are less fortunate.
Can I get an Amen?
Darn right I can!
Anyway, Wednesday was Cheryl's birthday.
On Tuesday, she received an early birthday present from her doctor's office. She had had a physical the week before, and had undergone a routine mammogram. Tuesday's mail brought simultaneous letters from her doctor and the radiologist advising that there were some abnormalities with her mammogram and that she had to come in for another look.
Some abnormalities are what you call it when it is someone else's test results or someone else's wife's results. When it is you or your wife... it is a BIG PROBLEM!
Cheryl called the radiologist, and they scheduled her for the very next day... her birthday.
There are two ways to handle the speed with which they got her back into that office. On the one hand, I could have been grateful that there was an opening. On the other hand I could have panicked and wondered why are they getting her in so quickly? What do they know that they are not telling us?
I preferred the panic button! Well... preferred is probably not the right word, but you get the drift.
I had court that morning, so I could not go with Cheryl to her appointment. Plus, she really didn't want it to be "a thing" until they had more information.
Anyway... this is where the prayer part comes in. I have a forty-minute drive into work and the first ten were spent thinking about all of the what if's. The next thirty minutes were spent praying about those what if's and hoping that they remained never were's.
If you read Funny Guy Friday on a regular basis, you might notice that, on occasion, I poke fun at my wonderful bride... much to the chagrin of my mother-in-law... who often facetiously refers to me as Happy Boy. But I am going to let you... and my mother-in-law... in on a little secret.
I kind of like Cheryl. In fact, I kind of like her a lot.
This trip to the doctor was not what I had in mind for my wife's 33rd birthday (I just said 33rd to see if you were paying attention).
This second mammogram... followed by a sonogram... was a cruddy birthday present. Unfortunately, it was her best present because I had gotten her nothing. Nothing but my prayers.
I called before, during, and after my hearing and finally got through to Cheryl. I am happy to report that I am an awesome pray-er. Her breasts are good to go.
Can I say that? Well... you can imagine my relief and thankfulness that she is fine.
In honor of Cheryl's birthday, I would typically do a top ten list of things that I love about her. But this year, in honor of her clean mammogram, I am going to shorten the list to, oh, I dunno... the number two comes to mind.
The first thing that I love about Cheryl is... she is the nicest person that God has ever put on this earth. I could never divorce her because if I did, I would forever be known as that guy who divorced the nicest person that God has ever put on this earth.
Who could possibly live with that?
And the number two thing that I love about Cheryl... she is a devoted daughter of Christ. Every Sunday at mass, I say the same prayer. I save this prayer for mass time to ensure that I go back every Sunday. Besides, as you already know, I am a really good pray-er, so one time a week is sufficient.
I always ask God to be with our kids that week and to help them to become better brothers, sisters, friends, teammates, classmates and Catholics. I then pray that God would continue to bless Cheryl and help her to continue to be a great mother and the spiritual shepherd of our family.
Our kids are good sisters, brothers, friends, teammates, classmates and Catholics because of the example that is set every day by their mother.
Clearly, it's not my example... I am just the idiot that writes about his wife's boobs.
Happy birthday honey!
I love you more than you could possibly know, and I have a great idea for next year's birthday present... a brand new colonoscopy!
Editor's note... from Cheryl... You didn't think this Funny Guy Friday thing edits itself, did you?
Let me start by saying that we almost didn't post this story because of, surprise, surprise, its very personal nature. Plus, when telling a story, I really don't think any grown man should ever use the word "boobs" with a straight face.
And I didn't want this whole thing to be a big deal. But ultimately, I thought that this story might help to raise breast health and cancer screening awareness... and bonus... we didn't have to wear a bucket of ice water to do it!
All kidding aside... again and again, I had always put off getting a mammogram for another day "when I have the time." And people would say, "Don't wait," and, "Early detection is key," and in my mind, I believed it, but still, no mammogram.
Finally, I decided to put it off no longer. My birthday was coming up, and I thought I should start the new year off right. Check up... blood work... mammogram. The works. All my ducks in a row from here on.
And then, of course, came the call-back from the radiologist. Just a bit scary... and I don't get scared. But soon enough, fear gave way to relief and thanksgiving. To God goes the praise.
And I will never neglect again.
Not to give you too much information (as if that's possible at this point), but my tissue is "heterogeneously dense, which may obscure small masses..." aka... really difficult to see through on a mammogram. I know now that I will have to be watched closely.
So anyway... I won't lecture you... I won't admonish you. Believe me... I'm the gal whose tombstone will read, "Nothing bad's going to happen."
But I had told myself, again and again, "Yeah, yeah, yeah... I'll go one of these days... when I have time." Trust me, now I'll make the time.
My follow-up is in six months. My half-birthday. You'll find me celebrating at the radiologist's office.
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