That Monday, a year ago, while I sat patiently waiting for Dylan to finish having the MRI cancer was the furthest thing from my mind. It wasn’t long that our entire world was left in uncertainty and disarray. An hour or so to be precise.
Dylan and I had just returned home a few minutes earlier when the phone rang. Answering it was the moment I knew there was something more serious wrong with Dylan than just migraines. Composed I asked if it was necessary to bring Dylan in with me to the doctor, or if I could come alone. My mind frantically trying to find reasons for the urgency of going to get the results of the MRI, struggling to maintain calm, my heart pounding, I swallowed hard as I sat waiting in the crowded room, feeling the peering eyes from the reception staff, I knew they knew why I was there, I couldn’t make eye contact with anyone with fear I might just crack and allow the tears to pour out of me uncontrollably. The results revealed to me by a doctor I had never met. Hanging on to the tiniest amount of control I managed to walk out to my car before I completely broke down. It was an hour before I had the strength to return home, and a day before I had the courage to tell Dylan.
The shock of that day still brings tears to my eyes, the emotion still so raw, that moment when a new door opened and we were thrust through it.
There is absolutely nothing that can prepare you for this kind of diagnosis, you get thrust into it confused and dazed, with no knowledge and no preparation you wonder how you’ll get through it, but you do, you do get through it and you come out the other side more humble, more grateful and more present.