YOU’RE JOKING, RIGHT?

I didn’t get a call at work on wed—left a message at the dr. office, but hadn’t heard anything by the time I rode my bike home in the evening. Ah, the joys of multiple phone numbers (was there a small voice in my head that said “give yourself this last normal afternoon?”) There was a message at home. The perky dr. again saying “Call me about your results. I’m in a meeting but they will get me out.” That is not a message you really want to get. I called the office, and they paged her—she’ll get back to you in 20 minutes, I was told.

Kids wait for no woman—so I was off to pick them up at daycare, cell phone in hand. It’s a good thing my Dr. is on what jim calls “Hawaii time” (never quite within the prescribed timeframe, at least in this timezone) because I was home and (somewhat) settled by the time she called back. Can you imagine if I had been at daycare? I have trouble rounding them up on the best days. I can’t really explain how those 45 minutes might have been worse than what came after, but maybe they were.

When she told me I had cancer, I thought maybe she was kidding. (I think maybe I still do?) Honestly I don’t really remember much about the conversation, other than she was really nice (what’s she supposed to be, mean? But she could’ve been a lot less compassionate…) Wow do I hate that word. It’s just so scary. I probably do things every day that are statistically as dangerous as what I’m facing now—but they just don’t have the stigma. I ride my bike to work in the city, for one thing—I’ve always said it’s just a matter of time before I get hit (jim says I shouldn’t ride to work anymore). I was doing ok in rationale engineer mode (what does this mean? What’s the next step?) until I realized that Liam was breastfeeding from the breast with el lumpo. “Will it hurt him?!” (it won’t) That was the closest I came to freaking out, I guess.

Jim came home when I was on the phone. He gave me a hug and I was breathing so hard I almost hyperventilated. It was like I was outside of myself saying “hey girl, just calm down, deep slow breaths” and I started to slow my breathing, I felt my husband’s arms around me, saw my kids making a racquet in the other room. This will be alright. I’m going to be ok. I have to be.