Also from the “should I say it or not say it” files, I had a doctor’s appointment yesterday with a specialist. Like, one I’ve waited more than a month to see.
I called to confirm, since no one called me, and they said oh thank God you called. The doc is out sick and the other assistant quit and she jacked up the files on her way out the door.
So, we rescheduled. And my regular doc’s office called with good news — a specific blood test came back without any abnormalities.
Mind you, all I’ve been hearing is “rare,” “atypical” and “never saw that before.” So, “not abnormal” is like saying, “heebie-jeebie free.”
So here’s the thing. I JUST DODGED A DEATH SENTENCE.
Read that again. I’m not free and clear, by any means. But I. Am. Not. Facing. A. Terminal. Illness.
I didn’t feel like I ever was. But, we had to rule it out.
So while I wasn’t surprised, I had that moment of, “Well, Goddess, what are you going to do with this ‘second chance’ on life, girl?”
Well, indeed.
I went back to work.
Later I thought, “Couldn’t have done that with a death sentence. What would you have done, Goddess, if that call had a different message?”
Probably would have gone back to work.
I’m sure we’ve all played the game about what would you do if you had 30 days to live. I have many entries on that very concept that I’m too lazy to look up. I’d want to cash out my savings and go to Europe.
In reality I’d have to work every last minute of my miserable life so I could leave Mom with a little something. It wouldn’t be enough. But it’s all I could do.
And so, I’m glad I get to choose a different outcome. Eventually, anyway.
I tell ya. Being between “not dying” and “not living” is a weird place to be …