WHAT IF THAT BIRD IS ME?

On mammograms, Oracles, and setting ourselves free. Plus: my old song "Bird," and join me tomorrow 5/14 12-1pm EST for a writing workshop for paid subscribers!

Hi dear readers! Thank you for being here however it works for you. Join me tomorrow (Wednesday, May 14th from 12-1pm EST) for WRITE NOW, a writing workshop for paid subscribers. I’d like to do these more regularly, we all need a writing group right? If this is of interest, upgrade to a paid subscription (I literally jump up and down when you do!), link to register and more info after the paywall. (Email me alexa@alexawilding.com if funds are an issue, no one will be turned away.) Sending love to all! I hope you enjoy this week’s tiny, tender tale. xx Alexa

Mammogram chic.

Yesterday, I woke up with the birds to catch a 6:09 a.m. train down to the city for my annual mammogram. The sun refracted off the Hudson River into my train car, and it was so beautiful I forgot how tired I was. I also forgot how totally chaotic Mother’s Day had been (will my children ever stop fighting?), and for the few minutes it took a ray of light to fly from one side of the car to the other, I forgot how absolutely terrified I was to get my one remaining breast squashed, scanned, and analyzed.

Sometimes I wish they’d taken the other breast, too—then I wouldn’t have to do this every year.

I didn’t really understand how hard it would be to have my life organized not only by my son Lou’s scans—which turn me temporarily psycho a few times a year—but now…

My own, too?

Scans are like a trip to the fucking Oracle.

They remind you that you’re not in charge of yourself—like, at all. You’re at their mercy, whoever they are. At Lou’s clinic, his oncologist always refers to the mysterious and ever-present Tumor Board.

“We’ll have to run his recent CAT scan by the Tumor Board,” or, “Well, it all depends on what the Tumor Board says.”

Who’s on this Tumor Board, anyway?

Who’s been making the decisions for my family all these years? Were the tumors found in my left breast three years ago brought to a Tumor Board all my own? Is there one Tumor Board for all to share? Or does everyone have their own Tumor Board?

Does every tumor have a board?

And if so, can I please speak to the management?

I thought about these things as I hopped on the subway, then the crosstown bus, to good old 98th and Madison.

And it was only 8 a.m.!

Everything has happened to me at 98th and Madison.

Why, I wanted to ask the old lady passing me. Why, I almost asked the kid outside the bodega… WHY am I always at 98th and Madison?

I walked past the ER, where I’d run Baby Lou that last day, then around toward the Children’s Hospital, where I waited for him to come out of surgery, and into the Breast Center, where I’d lose my breast—the same building where I’d delivered two babies at once almost twelve years ago.

I felt like an actress who knows a scene is coming up—one for which she must prepare.

I should feel sad, right? Or worried? Or strangely nostalgic? Cue anxiety? Gratitude? Tears? Lots of tears?

Just then, a pigeon walked over to me.

“Are you on the Tumor Board?” I wanted to ask it.

It cocked its head, and for a second we stood there—me and the pigeon—on this strip of tony hospital where everything, just everything, has happened to me.

Sometimes time stands still.

In those moments, we collect ourselves. We figure out how we feel. We realize that even if there is a board for every tumor, and a tumor for every board, we can decide how we’re going to move through it all.

They might be in charge of how it goes down, but I’m in charge of how I’ll handle it.

And as the pigeon hopped over to a bed of freshly planted tulips, I hopped into the Breast Center, a hand on my one remaining breast—as though it were a tiny bird beneath my dress, a quivering, found thing in need of warmth, protection…

In need of love.

A MEDITATION

May we set ourselves free.

Do leave a thought or a story of your own in the comments. I really love hearing from you. And don’t forget to schedule your tests, scans, all the things. You’re precious, please take care so you can best show up for this world.

May all beings be safe, happy, healthy and free…and have access to medical care.

xx Alexa

PS. The results were good :) And enjoy my old song, Bird, above, a prayer really. I always loved Tim’s slide on this so much. And his cover of Bird, below, too. How it makes my heart beat so!

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Join me tomorrow (Wednesday, May 14th) from 12-1pm EST for WRITE NOW, a writing workshop for paid subscribers. This is a perk! We’ll write, breathe, share (or not), and then off you go. I know I need a writing group, maybe we could make this a thing? You tell me?

Link to register below the paywall. If funds are an issue, email me alexa@alexawilding.com or reply to this, we’ll work it out.

Just bring yourselves, I’ll take care of the rest. I’ll also take a minute to tell you about my new 1:1 program, PRIVATE STUDY, and you can ask me about anything you like, too.