Remember I had told you I would tell you why I was taking this trip? In case you don’t remember, here is a link to the post where I mentioned it. Now I am finally about to spill my guts.
It was a cold Wednesday morning. I remember so well how cold it was because I had just come out of the warmth of the church from attending morning mass (I’m Catholic). I hadn’t slept a wink the night before due to anxiety and I knew for sure in the morning, I was going to go to mass and leave it at the altar of God. I remember the ominous feeling I had when I got the dreaded phone call. Let me make it simple, I had had a series of invasive tests performed the week prior (which I will get into later), but flashforward, here are the results of the tests.
So, there you have it! The “invasive” tests that had been performed were biopsies that came back positive for breast cancer. Ok, let’s just take a minute here first. Before I get into the fact that I thought I literally wanted to die at that very instant, all I kept thinking of was, “Jesus, not that I wish this for anyone else -but why me?! Oh, Heavens! Why the f*** me? Haven’t I been through enough already?
Forgive me for (sort of) cursing, but no one who initially finds out that they have been diagnosed with breast cancer, or any type of cancer for that matter, is ecstatic or leaping for joy. I mean, I wanted to cry, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. I just knew I had to be strong, for whatever reason. Strength was the only emotion I could tap into at that point. In fact, after I wrote down that phone number, I sat in my car in the parking lot of the church and watched all the morning parishioners slowly driving away, till my car was the only one in the vacant lot. I was alone. I felt alone. And all I could think of is: where do I start? What do I do? Who do I call? Am I going to get through this? I reclined my car seat and started staring through the windshield.
I think I must have dozed off because I heard a knock on my window and that’s what woke me up. An officer wanted to find out if I was ok and I nodded, sat up and turned on my engine and then left. As I drove home, I sent a text message to my cousin, Christian, letting him know what had happened. Actually, it was a copy of the above recording, because first, you shouldn’t text and drive and secondly, I wasn’t sure how to break this kind of devastating news to him over the phone. I mean, I would never be able to find the right words to say.
Let me tell you a little bit about Christian. Christian is my cousin, (and just like my younger sibling who also bears the same name) he was named after Cardinal Tumi of Cameroon. I currently live with him in North Carolina. All I can say is, though he is my cousin biologically, life has made him a brother. More than a brother. He has been there through the entire ordeal. First of all, let me tell you one thing about Christian: he is a professional optimist. I mean, forget professional. He is an extreme optimist. While the rest of the world is bothered about whether the glass is half empty or half full (with water), he is just happy that he has a glass. I mean, don’t get me wrong; He hasn’t lost touch with reality or anything -it’s just that he always sees the upside of everything. While the rest of us are concerned about the glass, he is more concerned about how he can fill it up with wine! And that’s what makes him so exceptional. For the last four days as we waited for the results to come back, he kept making comments like, “Don’t worry Mabih, it’s probably nothing. The worst-case scenario it’s a cyst and it’s probably benign. And if it’s benign it will probably go away and you’ll be fine, or they’ll take it out real quick. You’ll be fine, you’ll see. God’s got you. And I’m here for you too!” Something about his words over the course of those four days made me want to believe him, but I also had this feeling in my gut that something inauspicious was going to happen. And that’s what got me out of bed that morning and on my way to church.
I must have been in our parking lot for another twenty minutes just sitting. At this point, I got a phone call from my dear friend and sister, Sandra. She was aware of what was going on. She could hear the sadness in my voice and she just encouraged me, offered me her shoulder and told me it would be okay. I poured out my heart to her and we had a very uplifting conversation. Sandra is the other person in my life that you will soon come to learn about. When I count God for my blessings, I always count her twice.
At this point, I noticed that my cousin was peering out his window into the driveway, looking at my car. I got out and came upstairs. He stood at the front of his door, and I could tell from the look on his face that he had listened to the recording and knew exactly what was ahead of me. This time, he didn’t try to encourage me, talk to me, or say anything comforting. He just gave me a big hug, and as I stood there in the hallway, that brotherly and reassuring embrace would be all the comfort I needed at that very instant. For the first time, as my cousin hugged me, I felt myself well up, my chest tighten, and my eyes fill with tears, and I remember trying so hard not to blink because I didn’t want them to roll down my cheek. I was scared that if I started crying, there would be no end to it…
By the way, my good people, today’s date was October 2nd, 2019. That was the date my diagnosis was confirmed. That was also eighteen days away from my birthday. But who’s counting anyway.
What a way to start my new year!
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Not sure at what point of my journey you’re on? Be sure to check out The Contents Page.
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