Like most people there are several things in life that I do not want to do again, some were excruciatingly painful, while others heart wrenching. One of the things that I never want to do again is be asked who would raise my children if I didn’t make it. Followed by a breast biopsy while being told for 3 weeks ‘at this stage life expectancy is approximately one year’.
Granted it was one of the tougher trials in my life and the initial shock was a sucker punch. Walking down the hallway of the hospital had never felt so long before, which probably only took me a few minutes at most. The urgency of the doctor’s tone, the packets of information I carried burning away at me, the overwhelming need to escape what I had just been told frightened me.
We all have the fight or flight instinct in us and in that moment, flight was my initial reaction. It was as though I could outrun the doctor, the hospital, my own body. Then when I did make it outside, I had to make phone calls I didn’t want to make, tell people I didn’t want too, in that split second, I decided only a few would know. Of those that I told, some reacted as expected, they panicked at first but then asked me who would raise my kids, then offered to help raise my kids. It’s funny how the mind works. Being a single mom, I had already …
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