WE CALLED AND THE surgeon made room for us the very next day. I went with her and walking into that office, the memories came rushing back to me. It was like “…fuck, I can’t believe we’re here again.” It was scary as hell that they took her right in and even then they didn’t mess around, they got right to the point. The lump looked suspicious and he wanted to schedule surgery right away so he could remove it. Unlike the first time we sat at that desk, this time we were both more stoic as we took in the news. It was exactly what we were expecting to hear. I did feel that solidness between us again though. That unity of being a team in this fight.
The drive home was silent. I don’t know what Gina was thinking but for me, my mind was just kind of there. I wasn’t as numb or shellshocked as I was before. After all, the doc had only told us what we already knew. The difference was that this time we walked out of the office with a date for the surgery. The way I saw it, we were moving right along on the list of things to do.
My head stayed pretty normal until the surgery. Life at home stayed pretty normal too. Everyone pretty much went about their regular lives, which was a blessing and yet incredibly odd at the same time. You would think we’d be a little bit more intimate as a family, or maybe we would have recognized that time as one of those moments where you realize how fragile things are and you do more together. But that wasn’t the case. We just carried on as normal as can be.
The night before surgery was pretty normal too. I felt a tug of anticipation but didn’t dare mention it to Gina. As far as I was concerned, this was just the next step on our To Do list and after this everything would be fine again. There was no reason for me not to believe this.
Getting to the hospital changed my line of thinking. I still felt confident but there’s something about being in a hospital with the word ‘tumor’ and ‘surgery’ on your chart that can instill that glimmer of doubt. More than that, what returned in full force was that feeling of helplessness. I’m a fixer and a problem solver so to not be able to do anything was a hard pill to swallow. Once again, there was nothing I could do as an individual to help. I was at the mercy of this disease and our doctor’s ability to battle it. It was like déjà vu. Were we really back here? Is the other shoe finally dropping? It’s a worrisome feeling that wouldn’t go away until the doctor looked me in the eye and told me the good news.