I have met all the milestones.
Port taken out- check
Final tests- not checked
But the last and most important milestone am I CANCER FREE? I’m ready in the paper thin gown. These are the tests that will prove I don’t have cancer.
“Jill, we need you to wait for the results, please sit here,” and the harried technician is off with another patient and I can’t breathe.
Fifteen minutes….thirty minutes….forty-five minutes….an hour….an hour and fifteen… I cannot take it any more. I text my husband “THIS IS NOT GOOD 1 HOUR AND STILL NO NEWS!!!!”
“Jill, please come with me,” the same technician is leading me to a narrow hallway.
This is not my first time going where I do not want to go.
“Why am I going with you?” I snarl.
“We need more pictures, we are using a special machine. We can do a biopsy today if we need to,” she is still walking unaware that I’m ten-feet behind her and I am not moving.
“I’m not doing this!” I almost scream. Incredulously I think, God, you only gave me one month? I CAN’T! I WON’T DO THIS AGAIN!
She stands in shock. Then I begin to sob uncontrollably. My careful exterior shell of I-GOT-THIS-ATTITUDE crumbles like sand. I’m spiraling into an abyss of despair.
“Let’s just go in and get the pics done, I’m sure it will be ok,” she hands me a tissue while propping the door open with her foot. She motions with her body for me to come, but she doesn’t realize I cannot move.
I’ve heard of paralyzingly fear, but I have never experienced it until now.
“Please, Mrs.Mansor, we need to get these pics done,” she doesn’t know how to handle me.
I somehow gather strength, but it is like an out of body experience. The tests complete and I practically slump to the floor, weak and feeble.
I grab the box of tissues as she takes me to a consulting room. I can’t even pray. I sob unabashedly.
Thirty minutes later, a broad smile draped across the technicians face and I know what she is going to say, “NO CANCER!”
I hug her hard. I can’t get out of there fast enough, I am suddenly very exhausted.
My life as I have known it will never be the same. Fear is a liar and disappointed that I even gave it a foothold. One thing I do know is that I’m living everyday like it is my last.