Looking out my Backdoor: The worst possible scenario

“The pain ran from the outer edges of my rib cage, across my diaphragm, here to here,” I told Kathy. “It started right after I got out of bed and got worse during the morning. It hurt to move.”

“Sondra, you had a heart attack!” she said. “Did you go in to the hospital? What did you do?”

“Funny, that’s what Dee Dee said, too, but I didn’t tell her about it until yesterday evening when it was all over.”

“What happened? Do you still hurt?”

“I figured it was a pulled muscle, probably the way I sleep canted on my side. I slathered it with the gel everyone in Mexico uses for pain and took an aspirin. The pain began going away a couple hours after I self-medicated. I felt a little nauseous, but nothing serious. By five, I felt fine. I had a good night, slept well. I feel good today.”

“That is a heart attack symptom,” Kathy repeated, in case I hadn’t heard her the first time. “You should go see a doctor.”

“I promised Mother Leo I’d go today if I still hurt. He must have checked on me eight times yesterday. It’s strange. I never even considered a heart attack. It’s the first thing you thought of.”

I should explain. Leo mothers all us old people. We tell him our woes and he mothers us.

“Kathy, your reaction reminds me of when I began ‘to be a woman,’” using the euphemism of our day. “In health class we’d learned the The Seven Signs of Cancer. One sign was unexplained bleeding. I thought I had cancer and surely was going to die soon. I never told anyone and was quite resigned to my fate. Rest in Peace.

“Later that year we girls were herded into an empty classroom. Must have been the County Health Nurse who spoke to us. I remember her asking if any of us knew what menstruation was. The room went dead silent.”

I’m sure some girls knew but some of us were pretty ignorant.

“Finally Donna raised her hand. ‘I don’t know what that is,’” she admitted. My respect for her raised a thousand points. She was so courageous.

“Then the nurse gave us The Booklet and showed us The Film. I will never forget my relief. There was an explanation. I was not doomed to die from cancer.”

When we girls were shuttled back into our classroom, the boys wanted to know where we were, what happened? That day another euphemism was born as Karen, without a blink of hesitation, said, “We saw a film of Glacier Park.”

“Glacier Park” thereafter always had a special meaning to us girls.

It is strange how our minds work. I have never once considered having a heart attack. It just isn’t on my agenda. And once I understood with huge relief that my bleeding had a natural explanation, that pretty much wiped out cancer. Yet both Kathy and I each had first entertained the worst possible scenario.

Did I tell you about the paper cut I got on my finger the next day? I wanted to call the ambulance but I was on the phone with Dee Dee when I did it and she was laughing at me and giving me grief.

I slathered my finger in Bag Balm. I keep a weather eye on it to make sure a red line doesn’t streak up my arm. I learned what that means in Seventh Grade Health Class.

——

Sondra Ashton grew up in Harlem but spent most of her adult life out of state. She returned to see the Hi-Line with a perspective of delight. After several years back in Harlem, Ashton is seeking new experiences in Etzatlan, Mexico. Once a Montanan, always. Read Ashton’s essays and other work at http://montanatumbleweed.blogspot.com/. Email [email protected].