My Life With Mayo

Not just the condiment, but my new (un)favorite hangout

If you want proof of how much my family loved mayo, look no further than the baking cupboard in our kitchen growing up. Where my mother stored flour, sugar, brown sugar, bread flour—basically any ingredient you needed in bulk for a family of 7—in giant Hellmann’s Mayonnaise jars.

Thus proving you can find Instagram-worthy photos of anything on Unsplash. Almost looks good enough to eat! Almost.

I thought this storage solution was normal, as most of us normalize whatever childhood looks like in our home. So I was shocked when a friend first asked, bug-eyed, “Did you all eat ALL THAT MAYONNAISE?” Sure, I shrugged. Isn’t mayo consumed in bulk chez vous?¹

I have since learned: no, this was not how every other family consumed condiments. I have since decided: no, mayo is not delicious and thus joined the rank of mayo haters.²

ANYWAY. Never since the leaping delight I felt whenever my mom pulled out all those mayo jar monstrosities and I knew a delicious dessert was on the way—never since childhood have I thought as much about mayo as in the past week.

A brief recap: last week we roadtripped from the Twin Cities to the Mayo Clinic to get the final (third?) opinion on The Damned Spot. The experts here are not yet convinced that the STUPID ARMPIT LYMPH NODES are not cancerous. So weary me drove back down here at dawn today for another ultrasound scan and another meeting with a radiologist. Who decided we need to biopsy the node.

Build me a bridge because I am wildly over this armpit. Feeling like Jeremiah, tossed in the cistern again and yelling at God from the depths of the pit SERIOUSLY HOW LONG, O LORD, THIS IS GETTING OLD.

Therefore I have decided that we are just going to get out in front of it and declare

Prayers From/For The Pit

as a permanent feature of the Compassion Brigade. We can gather prayers for the parts of life no one wants to deal with or talk about, the stinky or shameful or suffering parts, and we can pray a balm over them as powerful as Teen Spirit.³

Ranking high on my prayer list today:

1. Would the stupid lymph node in my pit PLEASE NOT BE CANCER. AGAIN.

2. Could I please grow in patience one ounce because I would like to start KILLING THIS CANCER RIGHT NOW. My first infusion in the clinical trial is currently scheduled for Monday which is not the light years away it seems today, and I do still want to hear what the World-Class Experts at Mayo have to say, especially in terms of surgical options and cutting-edge developments (pun intended) for my beloved breasts.

3. Probably should have ranked these first, but let us pray for all those who are suffering in ways far more dire than my current frustration: for everyone in Sudan, Ukraine, Haiti, a thousand other hard places on God’s beloved earth; for all victims of gun violence and for this nation to dO sOmEthIng aBouT pReveNtaBle suFfeRinG rIgHt noW; for everyone at Mayo who looked grief-stricken or devastated or without hope this morning because there were many, many of them.

WOW, LAURA, THANKS FOR THESE BEAMING RAYS OF SUNSHINE IN OUR COLLECTIVE MONDAYS.

No, wait, there’s more!

Got the results of my genetic testing back on Friday and found out that I have a genetic mutation for ovarian cancer. So now I will need to get my ovaries and tubes removed, too.

This surgical/existential development is way too much for me to process over email (let alone in witty tones) so I will just say: would love your prayers for all of it.

I am completely over 1) bad news; 2) bad news delivered to me over the phone; 3) bad news delivered to me over the phone about more of my body parts needing to be removed.

SO.

Moving on.

Six moments of gratitude from today:⁴

1. A mother brought her (tired, cranky, crying) toddler to midday Mass at Mayo. I don’t care if everyone else in that church was annoyed by the sounds of the living, breathing Body of Christ; something inside my hardened heart broke open hearing her cries for the whole liturgy. It was everything my soul can’t speak right now. Bring those babies to church. Bring ‘em all.

2. Our health insurance covers second opinions. Mayo is within driving distance. My parents are able to stay with us to watch the kids while we go back and forth. None of this is small, she whispers to herself through gritted teeth during rush hour traffic in futile attempts to cut back on recent overuse of the f-word.⁵

3. When we bought our new/used car earlier this year, the dealership threw in SiriusXM for 3 free months & they suckered us into a year for only $5/month. More music at my fingertips makes me infinitely happy. If you drove Highway 52 this morning, that was me with windows down rocking out at ridiculous volumes.⁶

4. Spring is finally here. Rochester is full of blooming trees and bursting tulips and green grass, and my God, it all makes me believe in resurrection again.

5. I’m not dead yet. I’d like to go for a walk.⁷

6. You humans are outstanding. Every time I feel like I’m going to crawl back under the covers and never come out again, one of you pulls me out by a prayer or a beautiful word or a hilarious meme or a great song or a delicious dinner. I am convinced that the reason humans are still here is because we have not all given up at the same time, and this is Grace.

Several of you wonderful readers suggested that I check out St. James Coffee in Rochester, and I am in love. A coffee shop with great tea, amazing chocolate chip cookies, and the Blessed Sacrament in the chapel in the back?! PRAISE BE.

1. I have since learned that even bigger Hellmann’s jars exist. What joy when life continues to surprise us!

2. Can’t remember when I turned from The Way of Emulsified Oil, Egg Yolk, and Vinegar, but my favorite way to eat it used to be as a dip for salted leftover Thanksgiving turkey. So I likely renounced meat and mayo at the same time following my first research paper in high school in which I argued (obnoxiously) for the benefits of vegetarianism. But that’s a story for another day.

3. Apologies for mashing up this metaphor. Never those ‘twain should meet.

4. Sometimes when I am having an absolutely crap day/week, I make myself borrow a page from Pollyanna or Anne Shirley and scrape together some crumbs of beauty. “I believe the nicest and sweetest days are not those on which anything very splendid or wonderful or exciting happens but just those that bring simple little pleasures, following one another softly, like pearls slipping off a string” (Anne of Avonlea). Honestly I’m annoyed that I randomly picked 6, but now I have to hold myself to it.

5. Will take this up in a future Lent.

6. Trying hard to muster energy for long-term health concerns like hearing loss [insert eye roll emoji]. Last week I agree to take part in a long-term study about breast cancer because the researchers asked if I’d be willing to complete a big yearly questionnaire for the next ten years, and I loved anyone who felt confident enough in my continued presence on this planet to ask me to join something for a decade. SIGN ME UP.

7. I was raised on healthy doses of mayonnaise AND Monty Python, so if you are baffled by my reference, please enlighten yourself here but only if you aren’t offended by morbid humor.