A Very Good Day

A week ago Saturday, also known as "The Day Before I Love You's," was not a good day.

You see, when your doctor tells you she can't fit you in for your annual lady-physical until November, you get over it. And then when she calls you right back and says she has an appointment on Saturday morning, it's total buzzkill.

I had an early morning meeting at work and then headed to the lady doctor. During the breast-exam portion of the funfest, she asks me "have you always had this lump here?"

Cue panic.

She sits me up and feels again from different angles - always coming to the conclusion that I didn't want to hear: a lump. Not a tiny one, but a nice, big one.

She finishes up what needs to be done and sends me off with an appointment for an ultrasound and a diagnostic mammogram.

At age 24.

I visit the doctor in a different town, so on my way back I am just reeling. I expected a lot of things from this appointment - but this was not one of them.

At first, I wasn't going to tell anyone. Why burden anyone with unnecessary worry? It just seemed so cruel and unfair, especially since my mom died so young (although from nothing even remotely related to breast cancer).

I had planned on hanging out with Mr. RH for a couple hours before heading back to work, so off I went.

He asks how things went and I tell him everything is fine and dandy before resuming my stone-cold silence.

At this point he knows me well enough that he's not convinced of that bullshiz so he basically sits patiently until I make up my mind that I'm going to spill my guts.

After 52 hours of me debating in my head, I choke the words out: "she found a lump."

Mr. RH looks - well, he looks like I feel: petrified. Stone cold.

I don't blame him.

He, of course, recovers enough to say all the right things. It's nothing. Don't worry. It's going to be fine. I'm here for you.

Of course, at this point I have completely lost my grip and there are tears running down my cheeks.

Mr. RH wipes my tears and smoothes my hair and tells me everything is going to be just fine.

For days, I live with the secret between Mr. RH and I. Not telling a soul.

We go to the wedding and I hug my friends tighter and scream "I love you's" out the car windows until they are out of sight.

I break down and tell some co-workers so I can get off for the appointment. I decide to tell my dad because I can't decide if it would completely break his heart that I didn't tell him and something was wrong.

In the meantime, Mr. RH tells me that he loves me. He has, according to him, been thinking it for weeks but couldn't find the right time to tell me. He wanted to say it the minute I told him about the lump but also didn't want me to think he only said it because he was afraid.

He also insists on accompanying me to my appointment. I, of course, fight him tooth and nail and tooth but he insists that he's going to wait in the lobby while I get my tests done.

It feels really, really nice to have someone insist on supporting me, for a change. Really, really great.

In the meantime, Mr. RH and I can't exactly shake the what-ifs from our head. Sure, he tells me he's not worried and that everything is fine. But in the quiet moments, I look over at his face and we both know what is going unsaid.

Fear.

The thought that I was coming so close to everything that I had ever wanted and the thought of it being potentially taken away? So unfair.

But after 10 of the most-sleepless days I've ever had, the appointment was yesterday.

All clear. Nothing to worry about.

Mr. RH had the whole day off with me so we spent it celebrating. Mexican fiesta for lunch, shopping, making out, going on a drive, making peach cobbler.... all of our favorite things.

We parted ways last night knowing that the future is still in tact and ours for the taking.

It was a very good day. Potentially one of the best.