Today the kids and I are heading to NY.
It was last July, in New York, when I found the lump that would be identified as cancer. I don't remember the exact day. I don't think I want to. That's not the kind of anniversary you celebrate. I remember calling Hubby in tears that night, telling him about it, because I knew - I just knew - it was going to be cancer. A lump that size doesn't just show up and turn out to be nothing. He thought I was jumping the gun, and he tried to talk me down from the ledge. He did what he was supposed to do, telling me it could be anything and we won't know for sure, etc. My man who is not known for his optimistic nature was trying so hard to lift me up. I knew deep down it was bad. It was an agonizing three weeks before I was able to see my doctor and get confirmation. It was another four weeks before I would start treatment - four weeks filled with tests and appointments and anxiety and tears.
I've come a long way since last July.
Lord help me, though, if something bad happens on my trip this year!
I think I've been though enough, thank you very much.