My mom always had a thing for collecting funny and whimsical objects to use as decorations in her office and our home. One particularly whimsical thing she collected was figurines of flying pigs. She had a habit of using the phrase, “When pigs fly” with some regularity. Recently, I put two of my mother’s flying pig figures out for display in my own home. I hadn’t thought about them in years, but I came across them while cleaning out one of my closets.
This past weekend, I went shopping for some home décor items at a couple of different stores. At one of my stops, on the very first isle I walked down, there was a flying pig just sitting there on the shelf. I couldn’t believe it! I initially picked it up, but thought to myself I do not need another flying pig right now. I put it back on the shelf and continued my shopping. After a few minutes, I had changed my mind and went back to get the flying pig, only it was no longer there. In fact, it looked as though it was never even there on the shelf to begin with. I thought I was going crazy. There happened to be an employee a few feet away, so I asked her if she had seen the flying pig figure or had any more similar items in the store. She gave me a strange look and said, “Ma’am, to my knowledge we haven’t carried those in over a year.” I was so confused because I literally just saw one sitting on the shelf! A moment after the conversation ended with the store employee, an announcement came over the intercom saying that the store was partnering with the Dana-Farber Cancer Institute and special bags could be purchased in stores soon. I couldn’t believe what was happening. The Dana-Farber Cancer Institute was where my mom went after her first diagnosis with breast cancer.
I live in Oklahoma, so I typically hear ads for Susan G. Komen, American Cancer Society or Cancer Treatment Centers of America. But Dana Farber, a place in Boston? What are the odds? As soon as I left the store, I called my dad and just began to cry. I’m sure I worried him quite a bit initially, but I said I had to share what happened with him because he is truly the only person in the world that would understand. I told him the story and he just laughed. We went on to talk about grief. We talked about the fact that I’ll have to have another surgery at some point. And we talked about the fact that I will live the rest of my life under surveillance, which brings me additional fear and anxiety. At the end of the conversation though, he said, “You’ll be okay, just keep looking for those flying pigs.”
Today is the four-year anniversary of my prophylactic double mastectomy, and I promise to always continue looking for those flying pigs.
Thanks for reading!
