She entered with a dour expression.
Her eyes serious and grim.
“I’m so sorry this is happening to you.”
The last we had met was when she cared for my pregnancy.
Well, that’s not true, now that I think about it. The last time we met she yanked out the bc solution that in fact made me crazy for ten months and may…MAY have contributed to my current predicament. But that’s another story.
Back to the sorry. “I’m so sorry.”
She was. I saw deep concern in her eyes. And I told her that if we had met months ago, I would share her expression but now all I can do is be glad I am here.
I am so glad I am here.
We wore the same necklace.
We picked up right where we had left off all those years ago.
I said, “I trust you. I want you on my team.”
And she said yes.
And we talked about the pros and cons of another surgery.
Oophrectomy. Look it up.
I don’t want it but I might need it. I might.
And we talked about Tamoxifen and recurrences and side effects.
And she said, “I can’t tell you how many forty-year-old women I’ve seen on tamoxifen recently.”
And that was serious.
And it’s scary because we are the same age.
And I told her to get a mammogram.
I told her.
I told her.
And it was like old friends coming together, talking and laughing and wearing the same necklace. Hers from Mother’s day and mine from two Christmases ago.
She said she would be on my team no matter what and then she did the exam. She told me to go get that CT scan that was ordered for my lung nodule that is hopefully just a post infection thing.
She ordered an ultrasound for my ladybits. Another check for cancer. Tamoxifen precaution.
Strange that the drug that may save my life may also cause a separate cancer elsewhere. But that’s what it is. It is what it is what it is.
This will never be over.
“You look great.”
So do you.
I feel better now that she is on my team.
We both left happy and laughing.
Because there is hope. There is light. There is friendship? Maybe not…maybe just professional camaraderie or a strong mutual bond.
And there was hugging.
I am not out of the woods but I have people to hold my hand along the way.
That’s what matters.
Sometimes, that is all that matters.