On March 20, 2017 I underwent relatively minor surgery to remove a suspicious lump in my left supraclavicular area. By the end of today, I will know if my Google death spiral was right or wrong. How am I supposed to feel as I wait?

My husband and I are so incredibly different. He is an introverted, instrospective, internal processor.  He’s part of the “IN” crowd…HA!  He prefers to quietly pass this eternal time of torture suppressing his emotions, strong-arming his mind to assume the best  until the doctor tells him otherwise.

I, on the other hand, am all things external; voraciously researching every syllable uttered by the doctor, verbally processing every nuance of my concerns until I can walk into the surgeon’s office with my “worst case scenario” firmly ensconced in my sleep-deprived mind.

We are quite the pair.

Today, at 3;15, we will walk into that little room and either have a ten ton weight lifted or dropped, depending on our coping mechanisms.  It makes precious little difference what we’ve done to prepare. Neither method will alter the pathology’s results.

This is where I find myself for these last, few, interminable hours, awaiting an edict over which I have absolutely no control, desperately wishing I had the ability to choose my husband’s approach, attempting to force terrifying statistics and menacing vocabulary to the farthest recesses of my uncooperative brain…

begging God to once again hear my cry and quiet this storm.

P.S. My weight was lifted. It isn’t cancer.