Mediation vs. Melanoma

Mediation vs. Melanoma

Luckily today was atypical for this yippie chick. Not severely displastic (humor for the derms and nurses out there ;-), but I’m glad it isn’t ever day that has to be like today.

It was a misty Oregon morning drive back from the coast, after a quick overnight at our Olivia Beach Camp Cabins. I managed to shave off enough time in taking Barbur Boulevard to grab a bagel for brain food from Einstein Bagel before heading to the court house. Life was going along just fine.

Yet under the surface I was preparing for one hell of a day. I knew I needed all the resolve I could muster.

Mediation with my wusband, followed up with a dash of melanoma.

We were headed back for mediation with my ex around scheduling of parenting time. In short we were there because my ex was refusing to comply with our divorce decree and was unwilling to make changes that were requested in advance regarding my upcoming trip to South Africa.

I can’t even bare to get into all of the details, but in short he is being self-centered and insisting that Clark be away from me for a full week when I am still in Portland, and then require 8 hand overs and 20 hours of driving from my mom and sister to help fill the gaps that he refuses to change. It is pretty pathetic.

We spent two and half hours going over the same thing and never got to any resolution (a mirror of our marriage).

It was my own private purgatory. Advocating for my son and debating about all the same things, in the same ways. Frankly the mediator didn’t have much air time. We left the session and seemed like we might just we be close to making some kind of shift. After another twenty minutes in a coffee shop, we reached nowhere.

He says the he wants to “be consistent”.

As if rigidity should be a way of life. That isn’t me, and it never will.

Consistency is nice and all, but it is not the spice of life. It is not the juicy bits.

My life is dynamic. That is certainly true. I love this life of mine.

Next on the agenda for this fun filled day was a visit to OHSU Surgical Dermatology.

Honestly a surgical visit was less painful than mediation.

The OHSU team were fabulous. I wish all of my surgeries had been so easy. The team was competent and nice. Helpful and personable.

They let me rattle on to distract myself from the slicing into my arm. For a melanoma incitu they take approximately a cm of skin around the area.

I shared about heading to South Africa with InStove and other travel tales.

The aftermath has been mixed. Overall a ton easier and better than past surgeries, but pain relief is definitely necessary. There is just no way around it.

I woke up around 2am in incredible pain. When you just can’t get comfortable.

One of my keys to yippie freedom is the mantra that all things will pass. As painful or delightful as anything may be in life, it is fleeting.

It also makes for another bad ass scar.

My latest scar is on my upper right arm, which makes it difficult to lift or hold things at the moment.

I’m reminded of both my fragility and resilience at a time like this.

My very real and virtual scars are a reflection of myself in the world and are part of who I am.

I’m still reaching towards the illusive aisle to work with my ex.

My strategy going forward: Develop our schedule to suit Clark’s needs, meet our goals as family, lifestyle, and many ventures, and let his dad know when is available within his calendar. This will probably serve us all better than me trying to fit myself into a schedule that just doesn’t work for me, just to appease my ex and make his life easier. It is what I have always done: accommodate. It’s what I do. I am flexible to a fault, and incredibly loyal.

Stay out of the sun.

I’m reminded with fresh scars how to avoid getting burned, a clear metaphor for life and love.

The things you love in life can sometimes hurt the most.

Go get checked.


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