Waiting for tomorrow
Tomorrow, my little sister will most likely find out if the lump in her breast is cancerous or not. Due to the Veteran's Day Holiday, the clinic and/or lab was closed today. Her doctor said that she would might find out the test results on Friday afternoon ("call to see if the test results came back"), but they weren't back, so she had to spend the holiday weekend worrying about what the future would hold for herself and her new husband.
Finding a random lump may not be too worrisome for some women, but for a cancer survivor, it can release hidden memories of fear, pain, despair, and loneliness. Yes, there may be moments of grace, but a cancer diagnosis means many more moments of indescribable personal anguish. Everyone's anguish. A community's anguish.
Talking about cancer is hard for me. Writing about cancer is even harder. How can you put this feeling of fear and remembering into words?