New Type of Run

I'm used to running in honor, or memory, of people who have, or had, cancer. I've never really thought about the possibility of running in honor of myself. The reality of the situation is, I will soon be doing just that.

Sitting on the exam table with the doctor sitting on his rolling chair in front of me, my mind kind of blanks out when I hear the C word. I'm struggling not to cry and trying to understand the rest of the words that are coming from his mouth; I'm not too successful with either. I leave in a kind of numb and cold haze wondering how I'm going to call my husband to tell him what the doctor said . . .
. . . knowing I can't just tell him something like that over the phone . . .
. . . not wanting to tell him to his face since that will make it real.

How do I tell my girls?

Many sleepless and tearful nights I spend looking up information on the internet as Trevor and Riggins sleep. I make lists. Lists of questions to ask; lists of symptoms I have; lists of symptoms I don't have yet; lists of treatments; lists of more questions.

Slowly word of my condition starts to spread -- family, friends, co-workers, co-students. I tap into my continually growing resource of survivors for support, answers, and more questions to ask. My confidence is growing, and I once again find the deep calm I've come to know as peace with what is happening in my life. This is just another Mile 22 I must push through.

This will be a different type of run for me. I'm going to be running with many of the people I love, surrounded with the healing powers of love and hope. I'm looking forward to the new experience.