This is the beginning of a short autobiographical piece that I will post in sections.
We see two direct images of speaking here, one from the center
(think of the expression 'gut knowledge'), the other from the womb.
- Rachel Pollack,
The Shining Tribe Tarot,
Speaker of Stones card
For three and a half years, they called it a cyst. I knew it was adjacent to my uterus and left ovary, but it just sat there, and so it was not a concern. Cancer was the concern, my diagnosis of and treatment for retroperitoneal leiomyosarcoma. A mouthful, that, and equally large as a life threat - aggressive, fast-growing, and likely to spread and recur, even after being removed by chemo and surgery. This stable cyst raised no alarm bells. My surgeon paid no attention to it, although now I wish he had.
It began growing last year, around the time of my first recurrence and my 4th cancerversary. They biopsied it, a painful and horrible experience, and then kept us waiting several weeks for the results (which they'd said we 'd have in a few days). After all of that, the results were vague and inconclusive. It did not appear to be the same kind of sarcoma. In fact, they didn't describe it as cancer, but I didn't trust the report. Along with my doctors, I made the decision to remove it, no matter what it turns out to be. My surgeon at Stanford referred me to his colleague, an OB-GYN oncological surgeon, due to the tumor's location. The new doc and I were on the same page - let's take out the ovaries and uterus, too, as the tumor now appears to be growing into the uterus. I want it all out, even if it's only to deprive cancer of another place in which to grow.
This surgeon spent a good amount of time with us when we met, and I liked and had confidence in him right away. It turns out that he is the same age as my son Max, which we found out when I kidded him about how young he looks. He didn't trust the biopsy, either. The big surprise was that he will try do the surgery laparoscopically. I didn't even know that this was an option. If he can, it will of course make recovery much easier than abdominal surgery would.
So, now I am waiting for the procedure. Dr. Karam's staff had advised me that it would probably happen in three to four weeks. After a day or two of not hearing from the scheduler, I called her. Five and a half weeks was the soonest. He's a busy guy. As fast as this bugger is growing, I was not thrilled at the wait. He sent reassurance that the timing is not a problem. Not only is
the delay longer than I'd hoped, it also will mean we will miss going to Mt. Shasta for a Rumi's Caravan performance. Disappointing.
But between this and a myriad of other medical appointments, including tests on other places in my body that have lit up on scans, and infusions of immunotherapy for my recurrence, I knew that I needed some project or focus so that my whole attention is not obsessively focused on health issues. I decided to consult the Tarot, and one line in the text leaped out at me about the Speaker of Stones card, which sat in the place of the reading called "the crossing card", or what needs to be integrated. The line calls for letting the gut and the womb speak. The gut and womb are the two places in my body that are plaguing me.
Rachel Pollack, Shining Tribe Tarot
I realized that in my eagerness to get this tumor out, I had not considered the grief I might feel at losing my uterus. Of course, I am long past child-bearing years and hardly alone in having to have a hysterectomy. But this is the seat of fertility in my body, the home place for my two sons' beginnings. i don't know if I will experience grief, or how much, but the possibility has led me to this writing project. Womb Talk. I knew I wanted to begin with the history (or herstory) of my womb, so here we are. Maybe she will then speak to me. Maybe poems will come. We shall see.
