Sitting in the brown micro suede recliner with a navy blue summer blanket covering my legs willing my brain to turn off. Damn brain has a will of her own!
I came out here to read. My abandoned paperback mocks me from the end table. A phone call on Wednesday punched me in the gut in a way I never could have imagined.
I went in one day last week for a mammogram. I think it was a Monday. It didn't seem that significant-just another item on my never ending to do list. I moved some appointments around and went in to have my boobs squished.
It wasn't that unpleasant. We talked about snowmobiling and Sun Valley and her most recent vacation as she shifted my girls into position. At her suggestion I met with the Breast Care Coordinator who showed me models and websites and pictures of various types of cancer. I walked out feeling knowledgeable and empowered though I didn't realize I'd been lacking.
I went about my day and the next day. Working, picking up kids, shuttling to soccer and piano, punishing them with personal hygiene demands to take a bath and brush their teeth. The constant frenzy of activities and responsibilities and life. I didn't give my boobs a second thought. That it would come back anything other than normal never crossed me mind.
I am the person who always says "we'll worry when we know there's something to worry about."
But the shock did me in. Consumed me
Sometimes I don't think about it at all. It's as if there isn't even a possibility-as if none of this ever happened. Sometimes I drive down the street crying because Tim McGraw's Live Like You Were Dying is blaring from the radio.
I sit here googling words and combinations of words I barely heard.
This time next week I will know something. Something more than I do now.