*Nachum drove to the Herzliya Medical Center to pick up the results of the ultra sound I’d had two days earlier, while I stayed home to prepare for our weekend at Jacob's Ladder (an Anglo music festival for ageing hippies and progeny). I waited for him to call me and tell me that everything was OK, to put a final period to the whole unpleasant and frightening experience. In fact, I was so confident that it would turn out to be nothing; I'd gone ahead with my plans for setting up a Swinging 60s group and written a script in which I'd referred to the lump as being nothing more insidious than a cyst.
I was in for a shock. I heard the words, 'It's not good news' and that the lump was possibly malignant.
Angry! I was enraged - I went from room to room, yelling and cursing. Sitting on the bed, suddenly deflated, I began to cry. And then, amazingly, I picked up the paper and went on reading. It's probably some stupid mistake, I thought. The doctor who looked at the pictures wasn't wearing her glasses, or entered a comment meant for someone else.
Nonetheless, a pall spread over our fun weekend.
*Nachum is my husband.
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