Organic Strawberry

This  morning, as I bit into a wonderfully red, organic strawberry, I wondered, "Where did this uninvited element of my physical being come from? I eat well in general, exercise five times a week, and serve as the family sentinel of all things proactive." Extra pounds? Several. Stress? Honestly. Perhaps three years, or ten.

With my second bite, I anticipated the four medical procedures I needed to fit into my workday in this new investigation within which I find myself floundering. The goal: to thoroughly identify and properly rid myself of an invasive lump in my chest. No one has flagged an unnatural level of estrogen in all the years they've been drawing my blood. So I'll always wonder, "from whence has it come?" And I likely will never, ever know.

I have no family history of this. I don't drink alcohol. I don't smoke. My environment for the past 18 years is the same as my neighbor's, who's lived here for 30. And as one of the kids' teachers wrote, "Who's got time for such a thing?" That wouldn't be me. But stop the clock, anyway, no matter what's on the agenda. This is presenting itself a near-total transformation, certainly, of mind and emotion. Perhaps only a slight alteration of this baggage I call my physical body, in the full scope of things. But it's a big deal.

So. Here it is. Here am I. And the next step, after I get my wee brain wrapped around all this, comes the hard part. The careful unwrapping and re-wrapping of my soul.