Avidity: Embracing the Newly-Diagnosed
Embracing the Newly-Diagnosed
One of these women was diagnosed one day and the tumor was removed two days later. By the time I have surgery my tumor will have lived knowingly inside my torso for almost a month. That seems like an eternity. I am not an alarmist by nature, but still. When pondering different demise scenarios (would I use the candlestick in the library to commit suicide if struck by an incurable disease? Would I tell anyone if I got cancer? Would I cheat at Monopoly if I could buy Boardwalk AND Park Place?) I always imagined I would demand that anything in my body that wasn’t supposed to be there (like a tumor or a nerf toy) be removed immediately. I’m confused why I haven’t demanded that the doctors remove the tumor immediately. I feel inexplicably zen about it. It’s almost as if I need time to understand the strength that will come from having it removed and eradicated. I’m figuring out that grace doesn’t come from a single epiphany. It will intercede gradually.
Previous experiences in my life have already taught me to appreciate the small moments. The lingering kiss. The Halloween parade at my children’s school. Friends taking me out for drinks and arranging for a sitter so I didn’t have to. Some lessons are worthy of renewal.