Feb. 20th, continued

In the last post, I said I would talk about my health care team. But wait. The day isn't over. I leave the doctors office, debating what to do. Go back to work? Or go home? I decide to go back to work. I feel fine and I know I will be out of the office a lot in the future. I call my husband, tell him the "good"news and not to worry, then head to an important meeting with a customer who spends millions.

When I return to my desk, I tell my boss and my staff. I tell them it's ok to tell other people. I work with lots of people and I will be out a lot. So there really isn't anyway to avoid telling folks. The most difficult part for me is I am the type that likes to give support, not receive it. I always need this strong face. But this time I realize, it's time to accept the support of other people. I'm too drained to contact friends or family. The only call I make is to our friends in California - to let them know that that we are not going to be on the plane the very next day. I knew I would just worry the whole trip. Thank goodness for Southwest. I love that you can just rebook with no fees.

The day ends, with just me, alone. The whirlwind has died down and it's quiet. I write this poem and call it a day.

February 20, 2008 Wednesday

Today I learned I have breast cancer
I told people
They were sad. Shocked.
Some cried. Some hugged me.

And now it’s quiet.
I haven’t told everyone yet.
I haven’t told Ted or Jim’s family
I can only do so much of this at one time.

And now it’s quiet.
The phone isn’t ringing.
No emails.
Did they all go back to their lives that quickly?
I’ve done it when I’ve heard bad news about someone.

An appropriate five minutes of mourning.
Thank God it’s not me.
Push it away so I can’t feel it.
And go back to what must be a very important problem.

Now it’s my turn on the lonely side.
The side that you can’t know
Until you are here.

So I’ll keep a journal
And see where the road goes