Newsletter 26

NL 26

Dec 1999

You'd think there'd be some kind of warning. At least a feeling of import, when a day comes that shatters your perception of the world. A day that shows you how tenuous the thread upon which your plans, security, and future, depend. A day that steals your hopes and dreams. When fate comes your way, there's no warning. It's not personal; it doesn't care or not care, it just cuts the thread of your illusions, and moves on. You'd think there'd be some kind of warning.

Denial allowed me to retain some dignity and a false veneer of hope. This doesn't happen to us, only to "others". We weren't prepared to be "others". But there he was on 7 December, so professional. "There's a spot on your mammogram that we need to check" he said. I was sure that he was just being thorough, but when he asked if we had any preference for the referral to a civilian surgeon, I could see it in her face.

After several weeks of waiting rooms, steel machines, and cold tables covered in white butcher paper, a doctor again faced us, the surgeon this time, who I had assured, would grant us our reprieve. It was the 22nd , and Christmas was only three days away, surely the talismans of the season would ward away this specter on our threshold. We'd put up the ritual lights and our little tree, we played the music. "We'll have to operate," said the Surgeon. The thin anesthesia of denial wore off as we scheduled the surgery for the next day.

7 AM and we began the slow, inexorable, steps that would eventually separate us from each other. She was very quiet. As the pre-op took effect, she suddenly told me everything in just three words. Everything.

It would be the following week before the results came back from the lab. I didn't trust my public voice, and had withdrawn from all outside pursuits. I was neither sorrowful nor hopeful. My job was to reassure and be there. I realized that this was affecting me in all my contacts. Where was the faith and total confidence I'd always felt when faced with a crisis? After all I'd been through wars, attacks with deadly weapons, and met all of life's ups and downs with equanimity. Now it became clear, that she was always the reason, had made me a safe place in life that would be gone without her. The Surgeon had said that it looked good, but couldn't say for sure until the results were back. Those last few days were the hardest.

You'd think there'd be some kind of warning. When a day comes along that changes everything. A day that shows you how tenuous a thread your fears and courage rely on. And how you've taken that thread for granted. Our Guardian Angels had done it again. "It" had been removed, and "it" was benign! It is going to be a very different millenium than I'd feared.

You'd think there'd be some kind of warning.