After the clinic called to schedule my follow-up mammogram I felt unsure of what to do next. My husband always phones at noon to connect and chat. Should I tell him about the appointment and perhaps needlessly worry him? Should I mention it to my son who was visiting? What purpose would that serve? It wouldn’t make me feel any better, and would only place uncertainty on his shoulders. I decided not to tell my son, and that I would wing it with my husband.
At noon the phone rang and it was only at the last moment that I slipped in I needed to go back to the clinic for a follow-up. Silence.
“I only mention it because I’m not quite sure when I’ll get back home.”
My husband’s voice was steady but wanted to know about the appointment.
“I only know they need to see more views of the breast with the purple mark.”
More silence. We ended the call with extra “I love you’s.”
Over dinner I had a hard time sitting as I shared the good news.
“They said my breasts are awesome!” I gushed.
“Hmmph. I could have told you that,” was his impish reply.
“I wasn’t sure if I was going to tell you about the re-evaluation this afternoon,” I said.
He held my gaze with his. “Please don’t leave me out of these things. I know you are a private person and don’t like to worry others, and the truth is I was worried. But I want to be there for you, okay?”
I’m not used to letting my vulnerable side show, but at that moment I surrendered to his love.
“Okay,” was all I could say without blubbering in earnest.
The feelings that passed between us in those moments were raw with unspoken what-ifs, but I knew– come what may– we were in it together. It was the best part of my day.