Friday, January 4, 2013

The Story I Don't Get to Tell...Yet

Driving on the beltway my brain was writing a post. Selecting choice words and metaphors to tell the story I just knew I was going to be able to write after I left the doctor's office. With great confidence my story went something like this...

Girl takes a test. Doctor calls. Girl retakes test. Doctor calls. Girl's worried. Girl has to have a more invasive test. Doctor tells girl everything looks fine. Doctor and girl smile in relief. Girl gets ice cream to celebrate results.

Unfortunately, I don't get to tell that story. I didn't celebrate with ice cream after yesterday's doctor visit. Instead, I get to wait and worry six more months. For six months I get to stew about the cells in my body, anxious abut what they are doing, wondering if the abnormal cells have been eliminated yet. For six more months I will tell myself the same as the past three, odds are in my favor and everything is going to be just fine. Except it isn't always.


  1. ((((hugs))))

    Waiting can kiss my ass.

  2. Happy thought, hugs, a tray of brownies and a box of wine! That's what I can do for now, but I wish it were more. As a nurse I can put on my professional voice and let you know that everything will be alright, that you're young, strong and odds are in your favor. When nurses say that, I want to punch them in the nose. So I'll pray and send you happy thoughts and offer to translate any wacky doctor-talk that might be confusing.