When it was first suspected I had a mass in my chest, I asked Spirit what one thing could I do to best help myself? "Quit drinking," was the immediate reply. You gotta be kidding me! Not exactly what I wanted to hear. Like many people, I believed I had a comfortable relationship with alcohol. Rarely had the opportunity to go out to drink. Certainly didn't ever consume and drive. I didn't drink during the day, unless a toast at a wedding or special occasion. I switched from wine and heavy calorie drinks years ago to vodka, as it seemed easier on my body. I neglected the realization I had an ongoing RELATIONSHIP with alcohol. Drinking a couple most evenings to relax before bed, especially after my husband retired. We'd call "Happy Hour" when the clock edged past five or so. He'd pour a beer and mix me a drink of vodka and cran with lime wedge. Yum!
Now the Guidance from Above was suggesting I curb this behavior. Something which was now an engrained habit and had seemed harmless. Being just before the holidays, I bargained "Well, if it turns out to be anything, I will!" I stuffed the suggestion at the back of my brain and moved along in my life. I had to wait eight long weeks before I could get further testing, a diagnostic mammogram and ultrasound. The vodka flowed through the holidays and my intake actually increased as we saw friends and had celebrations. Reality delayed.
When January appointments hit, they hit hard. I had expected the additional diagnostics before they were ordered. My intuition typically gives me heads up about things. A glow of clarity in murky waters. Over the years I have been called back for ultrasounds and closer looks. My dense breasts often posing an issue in intrepreting mammograms. In addition, both my mom and maternal grandmother had breast cancer at different points in their lives. This all felt different. I wasn't hearing, "Oh look, its just a simple cyst!" The technicians and doctors were looking super close, a bit perplexed, thus leading me to a biopsy. Thus leading me to a diagnosis of Invasive Ductal Carcinoma. The pathology report arrived electronically at happy hour without a kind word or hug. I informed my loved ones and poured my last drink for the foreseeable future, toasting my Guides and crying.
I visited the breast care center and met my oncology surgeon just a few days later. We went over all tests, options and just about everything you can think of regarding my health and wellness. When we discussed alcohol, I said, "We just stopped when I was diagnosed." (Yes, my darling husband of over thirty years has stopped with me.) "Excellent decision," she replied. She went on to explain alcohol consumption increases the risk of cancer reoccurring, especially in breast cancer. Although she herself wasn't fully abstinent with alcohol, it was a rare indulgence.
Now it's been over week since I last had a drink. It was hard the first several days, as it was such a part of our every evening. I find I have more energy and have already lost a few pounds. I have been dancing more, which is my preferred form of exercise. I typically have my home device play random songs and enjoy the free flow of what comes up. As I was shaking my butt one morning, the familar tempo and beat of "Tequila" by The Champs came on. Why, yes please. I will take a shot...in song form. I looked up to my Guides with a smirk, knowing they were serving up that round.
In Light,
Deb
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