Yesterday's procedure went as well as could be expected, I guess. They didn't find anything immediately scary and the biopsy won't have results for two weeks. I feel like a tiny little angry Mack truck ran up my insides and caromed wildly around in there. So, another day of lying in bed, popping pain remedies.
An interesting thing happened during the test. I expected pain, and it hurt a lot, but I totally didn't expect to feel like some hidden emotional trauma had been triggered in the poking around in my body. Maybe you know that emotional memories are held in every cell in our bodies: the more pathological the cell tissue, the more intense the emotional charge of the memory. From the first moment the tools of the test entered my body, before the current physical pain even registered, I was bawling. I was obviously (to me, anyway) being reminded of emotions that were hidden away in my body. I was overwhelmed with a grievous rage.
A couple new cysts were found of a type that mind-body experts associate with constantly replaying old "movies" of hurts one can't let go of. As if there were, say, some insults that I am hideously angry about, can't let go of, and can barely admit even to myself. Perhaps the deeply mired issues represented by the fact that none of my family responded with so much as an "I'm glad you're not dead" to my several messages about my health crises and my Halloween trip to the ER. Both of my siblings and their spouses roundly ignored my emails but betook themselves to comment on some of my frivolous Facebook posts. I wrote to them to ask why they bothered to FB with me if they were going to ignore the big scary stuff. My brother hasn't answered; my sister said in response to my questioning whether she had even received the emails, "oh, yeah, I got those," without a single explanation of why she had ignored them. I am so deeply offended, I can't even articulate it.
Clearly, I have some deep psycho-spiritual work to do--undoubtedly around this same as-yet-unforgivable collection of bitter and angry baggage about my family. It is more than a little depressing to realize. I have done sooo much work distentangling my psyche from my past yet my body is telling me I have so much more to do.