Tuesday, June 12, 2007

Sunday Afternoon

It was time to inform friends and family who had not yet been privy to what I had been going through. The date was May 20, almost a month since I’d first discovered the lump – but it felt like half a lifetime.

I’d gotten in the habit of simply telling any friend and acquaintance I happened to come in contact with during the waiting period, which led to some strange anomalies. Our chiropractor and pedicurist knew, but close friends with whom there had been no recent contact didn’t know. *David, living in the UK, knew nothing about the hell of the last few weeks because I saw no reason to burden him with something that might still have had a happy ending. But I’d made it a habit to tell people I’d met by chance, whether close friend or mere acquaintance, because the issue was a constant presence in my mind and I felt uncomfortable and slightly dishonest not sharing it.

Naturally, I’d informed my boss – and I’d been surprised by a lovely bunch of flowers from work.

I spent the afternoon at home, calling friends, responding to the masses of emails I’d received from people who were waiting anxiously with me for news. But before anyone, I called David, who said he’d get the first plane out.

*David is my elder son. He's finishing off his post-doctorate in neuro-psychology in the UK before going taking up a post-doc position in New York.

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