Right now, I’m sitting in a cozier-than-most waiting room. Through the past year, I’ve been in quite a few waiting rooms and hospital rooms. I’ve paced the halls, slept on cots (and one very uncomfortable chair), talked to doctors and nurses and techs about my husband and his health.
But this waiting room? It’s for me.
Just a few days ago, I went in for my well-woman exam. I turned forty in May, so the mammogram was in the plan. The lump was not.
I just had the first round—the annual smashing of the boob. Depending on what the radiologist sees, I may have to go for the ultrasound part.
I write this article without results, but that’s because the results aren’t the point. The point is this: Am I willing to deal with the fallout of praying the hard prayer?
A year ago, my mother-in-law was dying of stage four pancreatic cancer. It was of environmental causes, and she also had diabetes. I looked at my husband’s eating habits, his unhealthy emotional connection with food, and his inability to stick with an exercise plan. I feared that the painful road my mother-in-law walked could be the same for my husband.
Photo Credit: Unsplash/Til Jentzsch