Message in Alexandrite
It’s a vintage style Alexandrite ring, described as “art deco” and categorized as both a daily ring and a ladies’ engagement ring. Again, elevated, not to be bought on a whim. Reviewers shared pictures that show the stone in a hue of teal, but other reviews show it in different lighting with a hue of lavender or even maroon. I skimmed enough reviews - all raves - to learn that alexandrite is supposed to change hues with lighting, and this only increased my interest. I casually decided to eventually purchase one as a daily ring for my right hand ring finger.
I probably saved it as a favorite on Etsy back in February. I added it to my cart in early May. I considered it as a Mother’s Day present to myself. Then I decided to wait and reward myself at the end of the school year, a bribe of sorts to finish my 21st year with grace.
I ordered it in June, during the first week of summer vacation. It arrived the first week of July. I happily put it on, enjoying its dainty yet sophisticated setting and marveling at its color-changing magic. Mine fluctuates between dark purple, pink-lavender, teal, and aquamarine. It is perfectly beautiful.
I told my best friend Michelle that I’d gotten it and sent her a quick picture of it. We tell each other everything from the mundane to the profound, so this was somewhere in-between our morning Starbucks order and that time we contemplated whether we were ready to have kids with those Matts we married. Her husband is also a Matt.
“You know, alexandrite is a really interesting stone. There’s a reason you were drawn to it. You should look it up. Here, I’ll send you some cool websites from a gem website I follow.”
My best friend follows gem websites, among other hippy-dippy stuff like crystals, tarot readings, saging her surroundings, summoning ghosts to help her find lost items (sometimes saints but mostly ghosts I think), and general good vibes. I’m in about 70% harmony with all of these things, but also extremely grounded with a perspective that at times leans a tad pessimist - if only because, you know, some shit has happened that I can’t kumbaya away.
I tabled that thought of, “there’s a reason you were drawn to it.” I was busy. We were in summer camp mode with Arthur, knee-deep in several simultaneous home-improvement projects on two of three levels of our home, and upcoming family travel was nearing. But I’d get to it eventually and was excited to learn more.
I did glance at one of the websites Michelle sent. I skimmed enough to learn that it is the June birthstone - fitting because I ultimately purchased it in June after several months of eyeing it. Also mentioned was that it is a color-changing stone, considered to go between two worlds - the physical and the spiritual - a stone of the mind. Huh.
The week that I began wearing it was the week of July 4th.
That same week, I had a routine mammogram.
That mammogram led to a second mammogram, after calcifications were found.
The second mammogram led to three biopsies of suspicious spots.
The three biopsies led to a stressful week of waiting.
On July 26th, two days before my son turned six years old, the phone rang. A calm, sympathetic voice informed me that I have early breast cancer in my milk ducts. The precise diagnosis is DCIS: ductal carcinoma in situ.
I have zero history of breast cancer in my family.
I have no physical symptoms. I cannot feel this in the form of a lump, bump, or even a skin blemish of any sort. I have had no warning signs that anything physically was amiss. It simply exists in the world of radiology, pathology reports, and on a cellular level. This has occurred over 15 months, between April of 2021 when I had a clean mammogram and July of 2022 when I did not.
The good news is that as of now, it is non-invasive cancer. The bad news is that it can turn invasive if left untreated. So, it’s serious enough that they cannot simply monitor it. The other bad news is that I have it in multiple places, making the treatment plan more complicated than a simple lumpectomy.
Hearing the words, “you have cancer” will certainly get you in touch with both your physical world and your spiritual world at lightning speed.
In the last 50 days, I’ve averaged at least one, often two, doctor’s appointments every six days. I have a team of trusted, highly pedigreed, sincere, and appropriately straight-talking medical professionals. The precision of communication, coordination of teamwork, and presentation of information has been astounding. This has been taken very seriously, very quickly.
I have had genetic testing and genetic counseling based on those tests. I have had a bilateral MRI. I have an entire textbook about breast cancer and have read most of it. I have met with a plastic surgeon. I have begun physical therapy. I have spoken with a social worker. These people in tandem with the textbook have enabled me (and ordered me, kindly) to stay off the internet. I mostly have.
In six days, I will have a bilateral mastectomy with lymph node mapping and with reconstruction to immediately follow. Making this very personal decision has already completely changed my life. Life will change again in six days.
People who know this news have kindly asked how they can help, which in itself is already a help. If you are reading this, I am begging you to question any knee-jerk advice or tangible story of someone you know who has gone through this whose facts I should possibly consider into my own story. I am begging you not only for my own self, but also for anyone in the future who may tell you that they are going through a similar journey of decision. To be fair, no one has offered knee-jerk advice or tangible stories, but I can tell you that even facing this hypothetically is soul-crushing.
I can confirm with all of my being that absolutely no one knows what they would do in a situation like this until it happens and you have to decide against a mountain of statistics, pathology, genetics, quality and longevity of life, and your gut.
One help has been the offer of putting me in contact with said tangible story-holders in a non-advice-y, unassuming manner. I have reached out to a few people I’ve never met in person who have been through this, or something similar, and it has mostly been a value-add experience. The tricky part is when I am left to discern how much of their story is truly sympathetic with mine, and how much of it I should reconcile from it emotionally.
There’s been varied stages of coping, or maybe the illusion of coping. I have been in a stage of utter shock, followed closely by denial. There was a day in Lake Placid (where I tried to enjoy the vacation we had looked forward to all year but with only a week of “you have cancer” under my belt so…giant energy drain) where I actually convinced myself that this wasn’t that serious and that I could probably convince a different doctor that I didn’t need treatment.
I have been in the stage of complete overwhelm. There was a morning where I had written down the wrong time for a nurse’s phone appointment, became frenzied when the phone call didn’t happen, and then had absolutely no idea which office the appointment was supposed to be with and which number to call to even find out. A proper meltdown in the car ensued, hopefully not noticeable from the parents in the kiss-n-ride loop near where I had parked. With each appointment comes more hypothetical bad news, all innocently designed to make informed decisions.
I have had to digest information that I was not ready to hear in a matter of minutes. One example is the necessarily swift, urgent halt of any estrogen, as the cancer is estrogen positive. Not that I would’ve been family planning much longer at my age but it’s another instance where any sense of control feels snatched away, and by lunchtime.
I missed more than half of the opening week of teacher-prep for doctor’s appointments. I missed the opportunity to meet Arthur’s first grade teacher at his open house for the same reason. I have felt less than present most of the time which is very overwhelming.
I have been in the “everything feels acutely pointless” stage. The words “well this definitely isn’t worth a second thought” scroll constantly in my mind. If anything, this has given me an extremely pointed awareness of priorities - of which there are two: family and time. Skies look brighter, smiles wider, laughs more joyful.
I have been in the “everything feels completely impossible” stage. Our home printer having a repeated paper jam threw me into an exhaustive mess.
I have wanted to punch a wall several times or sprint really fast, or do something aggressive to release some of the anger. I’m seriously considering taking some cardio boxing classes after recovery. I’ve read some things about anger and how one of the best things you can do is move through it, as in physically move - dance, run, drum, something physical so it can shake out of your body. Can the entire JMU drumline from 1996 reunite in Reston, please? I’m afraid I don’t remember any of the music from any other years.
I have felt hints of resolve after deciding on the official treatment plan.
After a bit of relief from resolve, sadness enters right on cue. Although the treatment options are within my choosing to an extent, all of them still feel sad. The entire plastic surgery aspect of it is very complicated mentally.
Some days I have hit all of these stages during waking hours.
I’m grieving. This is very hard.
I’m also trying to maintain the status of a loving mama, wife, and a decent teacher. Arthur knows I am having surgery, but we are choosing not to tell him that it’s specifically because of ‘cancer’. We are instead saying that the doctors found some bad things that could make Mama sick so they want to do surgery to remove the bad things. He is so far handling this amount of information just fine and we are watchful of anything less than fine.
The suggested recovery is 4-6 weeks. I will be out on short-term disability for six weeks. On days with less coping skills, I’m bummed to lose momentum in my daily life. It’s frustrating to know in advance that I won’t be able to exercise the way I enjoy for likely months. I will be forced to slow way down and rebuild in a different hue.
The lovely staff at my school has already set up a meal train. My dear husband is able to stay home with me. My mom, other relatives, and close friends will also be helping. I’ve got a great support system, which I hear is key. All of them intuitively know not to say things like, “kick cancer’s ass!” so that’s a bonus.
It’s not that I don’t want to kick cancer’s ass. I’m just not sis-boom-bah over it yet. I didn’t ask to be in the kick cancer’s ass club, and I’m not interested in knitting pink quilts or hats yet. Maybe one day. I think I’m still fighting to personally identify with that perspective.
The miracle of early detection is certainly not lost on me. I’m very aware that this could be much, much worse if not for it. This was found so early that I have actual options. While the options feel drastic and life-changing, I’m grateful to have them. I’m also grateful to learn that DCIS is a quite common breast cancer diagnosis with a very high survival rate.
Life is still going on and will continue. Prince songs still come on the radio just when I need them. People still say hello and make eye contact. Arthur has a fully booked fall sports schedule with baseball and soccer and I can be fully present while the leaves fall.
As for my new alexandrite ring, I’ve read more and learned the following things - all of which bridge the last 50 days, but if I’m being honest also the last 2-3 years:
- It is good for people who have too much self-discipline, as it will remind you of how fleeting life is. Related, it is useful for people who are not in the habit of giving themselves a break once in a while or allowing their mind to relax.
- It unlocks your crown chakra and opens you to the healing power of the universe.
- It will open your eyes to the beauty and significance of each moment.
- It can boost your intuition and help you find a way out of a bad situation.
- Coincidentally, or maybe less coincidentally, alexandrite is known to help with physical ailments; it is highly recommended for those recovering from surgery or a prolonged illness.
- Since it changes colors, it will help you see both sides of a situation as well as remind you that life is always changing. While you can play your part, you cannot control the fact that things change.
I’ve always hated change, in favor of stability. Most of my adult decisions are steeped in stability. Threaten my stability and I become fiercely protective. As much as I’d like to deny being a control freak, my hypervigilance to safety, risks, and stability serves as proof that my mind could use a break. And I could definitely use some healing power of the universe - this universe that is very clearly throwing me change and the messaging within it.
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