Still unable to drive post surgery, I got a ride with one of my best friends to my one week post-op appointment. My name was called and I hopped up and headed towards the exam room, a quick "I'll be right back" over my shoulder to my friend. I returned a different person.
We got in the car and started chatting about something else and I finally just blurted out "I have cancer. I have cancer again." Her prompt response was unconditional love and support and the offer that we could leave and go anywhere, do anything. Just name it. I couldn't think. So food and drink were selected and we headed off.
My husband was on the road to pick our oldest son up from the end of his second year at college. I decided it was better to tell him then, at least in a little bit, rather than tell others before telling him. It didn't go very well, between the topic being shared and the cell service dropping.
My older son still had one final left. The next day was Senior Prom for my younger son. The following day was Mother's Day. So I kept it to myself, trying to truly enjoy each moment of these special days. The next day, a Monday, I shared the news with my children. "Are you going to die?"and "Do you have to go back to Seattle for treatment?" "What is the plan?"
No, I don't plan on dying. No, I don't plan on going back to Seattle for treatment. And I had no clue what the plan would be. Not a wealth of information at that point. But I had felt like a liar of sorts that others were learning about the diagnosis but my own boys had not. To tell or not to tell? Tell.
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