Standing at the Intersection of Life's Plans

*Contains talk of health issues*

 "I wasn't expecting that."

"I know, I am sorry to give you this news, especially under....” he releases a heavy sigh, “these circumstances."

I nod. My eyes sting, my throat constricts, this is it. I am going to cry. I have not cried in seven years, and I am finally going to cry sitting in a doctor's office with the Doctor I found after hours of googling "coupons for doctors near me" only to realize there are no coupons for doctors.

"I... I'm sorry I don't understand. I just came in here a few weeks ago to get a checkup."

"Yes, well-" he picks up his clipboard and flips through the few pages. “As you know we wanted to run a few tests and like I said I am sorry to give you this news-"

"What is that like four pages?" I ask, my frustration growing, my stubbornness to not cry in front of this man shining through.

"Well five pages but-"

"Those five pages sum up the rest of my life and all you can give me is an 'I'm sorry'." He stares at me for a moment, obviously questioning all the ways he can respond to me.

He sighs, pushes up his thin framed glasses and sits next to me.

"I don't think any answer I could give you today would be good enough. Honestly no answer or response will, probably for a long time."

"I don't have a long time." I say pointedly.

"A lot of people do not have a lot of time left, but you could. The only difference is that you can see your timeline on paper, and they can't."

"I just wanted to make sure my vitamin levels were good before actually having a kid. My husband dropped me off and said he would be back after picking up coffee. He should have come in with me, but now I am alone while he is on a stupid coffee run."

"Would you like me to call him?"

"And ruin his coffee run? No, at least one of us should be having a good time and I don't want to ruin his day with.... this"

"Cancer. It is okay to say it. It is not going to make you sicker by just saying it."

"No but it does make it real." My eyes lock on his.

“It is real, whether you say the words or not, it is real. Now being able to say it might help you come to terms quicker than if you do not say it and pretend it isn’t real.” 

I look down and notice all the wrinkles in the blue dress I put on today. I thought maybe it would bring good luck. That wearing a blue flowy dress on a nice spring day would mean good things are coming, but here I am in a room with a doctor telling me I have cancer, and not just any cancer, but ovarian cancer. Which is quite ironic because I need those to start the family I have always dreamed of.

“Why don’t you give it a try?”

“I’m sorry?” I completely blank, has he been talking this whole time?

“You are going to walk out of this building and be met by your smiling husband handing you your favorite coffee and then you are going to have to tell him this news. The first time those words come out of your mouth should not be at that moment. Say it to me, that way when you say it to him you might know what to say.”

I hate to admit he is right, but the first time I say those words can’t be to my smiling, happy, can’t wait to start trying for a baby, husband, or I might just crumble into dust.

I clear my throat, sit up a little bit straighter and look this probably 72-year-old man in the eyes. “I have cancer. Ovarian cancer.”

He nods, “good, keep going.” 

I swallow over the tight feeling growing in my throat. “I have stage two ovarian cancer, and I have to start chemo and….” I look away, no longer able to keep eye contact. “I have to have surgery, and we need to consider freezing my eggs, but that would delay the chemo-” then I feel it, the moment I am no longer able to speak, the overwhelming feeling that I can’t take in a deep breath. I look up and see him swat at a tear falling down his face, and then I lose it, everything that has been holding me together for the past seven years cracks, like a dam that couldn’t hold back the current any longer, gives away and there is nothing anyone can do but let it flow out. 

The sob that escapes me is a sound I have never made in my life and can only be described as something a mother would understand. Only this mother is no longer a mother, the life she built up for herself has changed and now she is standing at an intersection of what she thought her life was going to be, and what it actually is. Only she doesn’t get to choose which path she takes, because that current that burst through that dam is sweeping her up and taking her down the path, she has no plans for. 

I feel a hand land on my back and when I look up, it’s him. My Theodore. I see the pain in his eyes, the confusion, the hurt. I don’t know why he is even in here but here he is, kneeling down to me and pulling me in and rubbing the back of my head like he always does, and he lets me cry. Like he always does. 

“Hey, hey, my love” he whispers as he plants a kiss on the side of my head and pulls back. He eyes over my face, and I can only imagine what I look like right now, fat tear streaks ruining my makeup, mascara in places it doesn’t belong, a snotty, blubbering woman lying on the floor and I don’t even remember how I got down here. 

“You are so beautiful.” He says as his hands cup my head as he uses his thumbs to no doubt clean up some of the mess.

“What is wrong? What happened?” The concern on his face is killing me, but the confusion as to why he is here is at the front of my mind. 

“Why are you here? I mean, I am glad you are here, but I thought you were getting coffee?”

He gives a soft chuckle “I did get coffee, about twenty minutes ago, I sat in the car so long I figured I would come up and see if you were okay, the lady at the front desk ushered me back here when I said who I was.”

“Oh” 

“Now, can you tell me what is going on before I start coming up with worst case scenarios?” 

I nod and he helps me up into a chair, I look around and notice we are alone, which means the doctor must have left once Theo came in. I lean in and grab Theo's hand. “I have to tell you something, and it is okay, and I would completely understand if it is too much for you to handle, or you decide you want to be with someone else.”

“Someone else?” The shocked look on his face tells me I need to hurry with my explanation. 

“Theo, I have stage two ovarian cancer.” 

Silence. Silence fills the room, fills every inch until it feels like I am on the verge of suffocating. “I have to have surgery and chemo, and if you decide you still want to be with me and still want to try to have kids with me, then we need to discuss freezing my eggs.”

He shakes his head and stands, rushes over to me and pulls me into a hug. “What do you mean if I still want to be with you? I would never leave you because of this. Having kids with you is not why I am with you, I am with you because of your humor, your ability to see the light even in the darkest times, your ability to make our little shack of a home feel like a mansion. You are not too much, you, my love, are my best friend. Kids or no kids, I am by your side through this. In fact, if I could trade places with you I would. 

A snort escapes me, “you don’t have ovaries you goof.”

“Well, why don’t we talk to this fancy doctor of yours and see if we can change that, because if I could get them, just for me to get cancer and have to remove them, I would. If that meant you wouldn’t have cancer, I would do all of that and more for you. Seeing you on the floor, crying like that broke my heart in a way I never thought possible. I can’t imagine how it must feel for you.”

He pulls me in again and I am engulfed in his scent, sugary, sweet, cinnamon, which means he was baking cinnamon rolls for me this morning and trying to surprise me, again. I smile and bury myself in his chest and let him hold me for as long as he is willing to, which just might be forever.