I'm not exactly feeling good this morning but there is a sense of reaching calmer waters. It feels like a long time since that moment on Monday on the sunlit driveway when the doctor confirmed that 'not good' meant Cancer.
Beyond the 16th, the world is still a churning vortex of options. But the next two weeks are now mapped out. I will move step by step through a series of tests. We will have to abandon the visit to the grandparents but we plan to book a Eurotunnel train for next Friday so we can still make the weekend in London and long anticipated trip to the Harry Potter Studios. It doesn't seem fair to my elderly parents but we can squeeze the weekend in between tests and results and I have the feeling that we need to grab every opportunity to fit in the good stuff where we can this summer.
The nice part is that my husband will drive us over rather than staying in Belgium as originally planned. So he will be with us on Sunday - which happens to be our 17th wedding anniversary. He is much calmer now than at the beginning of the week. I have never seen him so emotional. I will never forget him tearfully asking the consultant if I was going to die - "I can't lose her," he said. We are lucky to have each other.
Of course, like most men, he is reasonably useless at providing emotional support (that's what good girlfriends are for). But now that we are into practical actions, he is coming into his own. It is with a sense of almost physical relief that I can look to him to work out the system at the hospital, figure his way through the insurance to reclaim for our lost holidays, be there if I need him to look after the kids when I go for tests.
I'm glad we will be together to celebrate our anniversary this weekend.
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