The first casualty of cancer is certainty.
Of course, I’m only speaking for myself. And, as someone who had gone through five years of miscarriages and infertility before cancer, I should have already known that life doesn’t always go the way you expect.
Still, I walked into the breast center 15 years later without a doubt I knew the drill: remove everything above the waist, put on a robe, let the technician flatten a breast between panes of glass, hold my breath, repeat, get dressed, leave and, a few days later, open the letter confirming all was well.
I made it to the leaving part, but the letter never came. Instead, a nurse from my gynecologist’s office called to tell me that my mammogram was “suspicious.”
At that exact point, I was no longer certain of anything and fell into cancer’s black hole.
Over the next four and a half months of appointments, tests, biopsies, phone calls, internet searches, and crying jags, I was desperate to find firm footing. At first, I clung to every word uttered by my medical team, believing that everything they told me was guaranteed . . .
Read more atCURE.
Has cancer made you more aware of uncertainty and the risk of having expectations? Leave me a comment and we'll talk about it.
Survival > Existence,
Photo courtesy of Nick Kenrick
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