On November 6th, over a month after my diagnosis, I was finally scheduled to meet with the genealogist to find out what my surgery was going to look like. I was not worried or stressed. I was at peace.
I left school at 1:30 and drove straight to my brother and sister-in-law’s house. My husband and I were meeting there to drive one car into town. We drove downtown to my appointment. We sat down in Christina’s office and, after she assured us that she wouldn’t make us wait, reported that both tests were negative. You could hear the air expel as we sighed. You could see our shoulders relax down to their resting position. I had no idea the massive weight I was carrying around wondering about the results of that test. The relief was immense. Negative results meant that I didn’t have the gene that would allow cancer cells to run rampant through my body. Negative was positive news.
I found out later that my father-in law and my mom bawled with relief when they heard the news. We were all carrying the burden. I forgot that everyone around me was feeling their own pressures. They were wondering and worrying right along with me. I had tunnel vision. I could see my journey, my steps and I used all my strength, energy and focus to stay on track and not lose my head, or more importantly lose hope.
I had no doubt I could have handled the news if it had been different, but the relief of not having to handle it was equivalent to setting down a box of 20 five-pound weights I had been carrying over my head. I called my grandma, in part to tell her, and in part to talk to her on Grandpa’s birthday and let her know I was thinking about her. We talked for awhile, it was good to talk with someone who’s been down this path. She has conquered this twice, I can do it!
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