I don't remember what the date was when my mom called me to let me know. It was night time, late August. My step-daughter was in town visiting. The baby was less than 6 months old, and still in that stage where he slept an awful lot. I was nursing him, getting ready to put him down to sleep when she called.
There was a lump. No biopsies done yet, but she wanted to let me know right away. They hadn't found anything suspicious in her mammogram back in February, but now there was a 2 centimeter lump. I detached the boy from my breast, covered up, and carefully walked downstairs to where my step-daughter was.
"Can you hold your brother for a few minutes?"
"Of course!"
Now in one ear I heard cooing, laughing, gurgles, and tickles. In other other I was hearing things like, "Surgery," "Biopsy," "Oncologist," "Chemotherapy."
"Well, I should get going to bed. I don't want you to worry too much. Cancer has never been part of my plans for the future, so we might just have to take a little detour around this roadblock and then come out the other side and get back on track with what I want to do with my life. But who knows, it may just be a cyst."
I told Mom that I love her, to call me soon, and we would Skype her so she could see the baby later in the week. It took forever to get the kid to sleep that night.
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