The title says it all for the moment, my mind wanders constantly to these words, turning them over, and hoping that the mass growing inside of me is going to be benign. That when it’s removed it will be okay, yes I’ll be sore, weary and over everything, but I will make a full recovery.
But these words, cover me in dread, they pour the icy waters down me, and I lay awake at night, worried, that I’ve not done enough to secure my family’s security should the worst happen. Panic tightens, and holds on, forcing me to cry silently, and realising that I don’t want to let go of what I have now. I don’t want my family to face the loss of me, and I so don’t want my son losing me now, not when he’s still so very young.
So I lie awake at night, and each night up until the surgery, trying to breath through the panic, sobbing quietly, for the fear that overwhelms me.
I try to rationalise, and my new mantra is that Fear is the doorway I will walk through, that I will face this head on, and tackle it. That I will be fine, that life will go on afterwards when all is done and dusted. But the tiny fears and doubts that whisper, the fact that my parents died from cancers, that my mother’s father also died from cancer, that I can’t escape my genetic mutations…these are the little doubts that fill my empty night time hours, and no matter how many times I chant that Fear is the doorway I will walk through, and that Fear will not hold onto me – I do the one thing I’m trying to fight – I fear for my family, for what could be, and the trouble is borrowed again……