Tales from the Flight of the Phoenix

I guess this is kind of like a second anniversary.  Another birthday?  Another mile marker?

Two years ago today I waited on the results of an emergent breast biopsy Dr. L. had done in her office.  I had been a referral from Dr. G., who assured me I was in good hands with her and got me an immediate appt.  After speaking with Dr. L., going over the mammograms, and doing the biopsy, she told me I'd have to wait over the weekend for the results.

I remember sitting in her office and just kept repeating what was going on in my head.  I knew it was cancer, but needed to hear the words from someone else.  I needed someone else's confirmation besides my own.  I knew I'd have to go through more hell - surgery, chemo, medications, etc. - and part of me felt ready to do it.  But not knowing what was coming was the worst part.  I'd have to wait 3 more weeks to see an oncologist who would finally tell me what I'd have to do.

I feel like I had a false bravado and kept trying to pump myself up to be strong and brave for everyone.  Looking back now, what I really needed was to be allowed to be human.  Allowed to cry, allowed to be in pain, allowed to whine, and allowed to say I've had enough or that I can't do anymore without judgement.  If I ever get sick again - God forbid - that'll be the only thing I ask from everyone.