How High Can the Volume Go?

Music has always been a huge part of my life. It has inspired me. It has challenged my thinking. It has shown me different perspectives. It has introduced me to new ideas. Not surprisingly, music has really helped me through all of this. Mostly it’s been at very high volumes. Songs that have been played very loudly (usually in the car without children) include: “This Girl is On Fire”; “Does Anybody Have a Map” (from Dear Evan Hansen); “This is Me” (from The Greatest Showman); and much more recently as I near surgery, “You Will Be Found” from Dear Evan Hansen.

The idea that a girl is on fire (sung by Alicia Keys), and that she is feeling a catastrophe but knows she can fly away is giving me hope that I can put all of this behind me. I cannot wait until I don’t have to think about my boob and all the ramifications of its cancer on my life, my husband’s life, my kids’ lives and my parents’ lives. Waiting for surgery dates, wondering what recovery time will be like, not being sure about how active I can be all means that people who want to help me are ON HOLD. Their lives are ON HOLD waiting for me to be cut open, then recover. Waiting for me to need help.

“Does Anybody Have A Map?” is from Dear Evan Hansen and is about two mothers who are having trouble getting through to their children about anything. Teenagers! For two months I have been listening to my kids complain about not having the right ham or crackers in their lunches; about how they don’t feel like going to piano; about how a friend said something mean to them on the playground. I get it. Its hard being a kid and navigating the social and physical worlds. I can’t count how many times I wanted to scream, “Are you kidding me? At least you don’t have cancer!!” But of course, I did not. Because I can’t say that. The words sung by these mothers, “Does anybody have a map? Anybody maybe happen to know how the hell to do this? I don’t know if you can tell but this is me just pretending to know…..the scary truth is I’m flying blind and I’m making this up as I go.” This is exactly how I feel when I think about how on earth I am going to tell my kids about this. And when. I discussed with a social worker (assigned by the hospital staff) how to tell my kids in a developmentally appropriate way, and how not to scare them. We came up with the idea of using an egg yolk, putting a pepper flake in it and explaining that the bad part (pepper flake) needs to come out so Mommy doesn’t get sick. The doctors are going to do their very best to fix her but she needs rest but eventually will be back to doing normal things very soon. So far, that’s the plan.

The idea that I am (or will be shortly) disfigured and not fit in should be an obvious fear. As Kaela Settle sings so soulfully that “I’ve learned to be ashamed of all my scars, run away, they say, no one’ll love you as you are,” I hear those words so loudly as I’ve been struggling with the idea that I need to be fixed. That the scars a lumpectomy leaves behind are too much to live with and that, as my surgeon stated, “you might as well take advantage of needing this to have perky teenage boobs.” Because that is what society says we need. To be fixed. After our body fails us (cancer, precancer, whatever you want to call it), then we need to reconfigure it because just taking the cancer out isn’t fixing it enough. And while I made a reconstruction (read “boob job”) appointment, I can always cancel it if I feel like I don’t need it and I like the divot the surgeon is leaving me with. I have been bruised. I am brave. Is this who I am meant to be? This is me.

This brings me to the song that has me in tears constantly. And yes, I do play it on purpose. Sometimes crying is cathartic. And sometimes the words you hear move you to tears and then uplift you. For me, this is the song: You Will Be Found (Dear Evan Hansen)

Have you ever felt like nobody was there? Have you ever felt forgotten in the middle of nowhere? Have you ever felt like you could disappear? Like you could fall, and no one would hear?

Well, let that lonely feeling wash away Maybe there’s a reason to believe you’ll be okay 'Cause when you don’t feel strong enough to stand You can reach, reach out your hand

And oh, someone will coming running And I know, they’ll take you home

Even when the dark comes crashing through When you need a friend to carry you And when you’re broken on the ground You will be found

So let the sun come streaming in 'Cause you’ll reach up and you’ll rise again Lift your head and look around You will be found

This song speaks to me because I cannot accept help. And Life has given me this opportunity to learn how to live with grace and accept help. Not only accept help but ask for it. Something I fail at more than I succeed. I don’t have a choice. To heal, I must have help. Help has often felt like failure to me. Why? I don’t know (that analysis is for another journey). I can see myself kneeling on the ground reaching up for help. Its what I face in the next couple of months. And I am so thankful for my village (near and far) who will be the friends that carry me home.