Indeed — what a difference a day makes!
The 24-hour waiting period, thankfully, is behind me by 48 hours.
Sigh. Good sigh. Sigh of contentment and gratitude.
How we wait — how I wait — is a topic that has my attention today as I reflect on the journey my mind took in the 24-hours between when my doctor found a suspicious mass in my right breast —
And the abrupt insertion of a next-day trip to the breast center for an extra special squishing session with an ultra sound bonus.
It occurs to me now — I took the news kinda like an emergency briefing on a breaking market opportunity.
Doctor’s hands hesitate and come back, lingering longer, probing deeper — second guessing the terrain—
And before she compares the tissue on the other side, I’m already into the first round of scenario planning —
Something’s different. This could mean disruption. What’s on my calendar for the rest of the day? Tomorrow? What are the odds? How old was my mother when she had it?
When she speaks, I’ve already accepted the possibility on some level.
I just want to know.
Accepting the next appointment from the nurse, I leave the examination room in a haze. What to do while I wait?
Who will I tell?
And so I decide to run.
I run, thinking about how strong I feel. How many people I know felt strongest right before they found out. I think about turning 50 wearing a wig — because my hair is gone — and then I laugh to myself because I realize this is not a problem —
I love wearing wigs!
I run, keeping a steady pace, and watching up ahead for my favorite tree —
The one lovers often rest in eachother’s arms against.
I run, happy to feel the sweat running down my back, and wondering if this is going to happen — well —
What will change?
I run, quiet with a sense of calm, and bringing myself around the lake, through the neighborhood, and home —
Then I wait —
Oddly, without fear or any attempts to bargain with my fate.
I wait — knowing things will be different in 24 hours —
No matter what.
I will be more committed —
To living and loving —