A full afternoon and multiple stab wounds later we had a variety of samples of malignant tentacles of tissue that were on their way to the lab.
I was in a little pain - it would increase as the local anesthetic wore off - but left his office with a soft cold pack in my bra.
To keep bleeding down & relieve pain I'd need to keep things cool. Traditional ice packs are hard and heavy. As much as I try to be a good sport I'm not into having a brick sitting on my chest.
Enter a bag of frozen peas.
I tucked it in my bra, took a picture, and was ready to tell the story later that night. That bag of peas added a touch of lightness to what could have been a sad and serious tale.
- A bag of peas was something everybody could relate to.
- Some people love them, some hate them, some use them for their own injuries.
- A bag of frozen peas was a vehicle for conversation and let people tease me instead of having to cry.
- It let people share instead of bemoaning.
I napped a lot during the first few days after the biopsy. The news was sudden and stunning after all and my body was being assaulted.
Mmmm peas for lunch?
When I fell asleep with peas in my cleavage I'd wake to the smell of freshly cooked peas. That made the story funnier, and more human. Of course I shared it because what is life but a series of stories.
After enough cooked peas I moved on to baggies with ice cubes or larger gel-packs which truth be told still are too big and too heavy to be comfy but help with pain.
The peas however live on in the form of stories from others about their use of pea-packs and the line-up of twitter avatars sporting peas in support of my struggle.
This makes them a comfort in more than one way.
And even now that they have their own grown up page at frozen pea friday they're still a simple and easy to understand symbol of caring to me.