Why am I so relaxed today? What if they find something? What if it’s bad news? Am I delusional in my cavalier approach to this checkup? Should I be more nervous? Is this going to be that moment, that fixes a permanent ‘before’ and ‘after’ in my timeline? I’ve lived that very moment with so many dear friends. Am I next up for that pivotal disrupter?
Will preparing myself for the worst make it easier to cope with, than assuming the best? Can all this thinking change the outcome? Hasn’t the dye already been cast, so any line of thinking cannot possibly change the outcome? I’m still feeling eerily calm. That fact alone is unnerving. Will that detail become part of a future before-and-after narrative?
It’s looking like it could be that day. The standard testing leads to next level x-rays, lengthy ultrasounds. How many times do you need to scan and click and point and rescan that one small area unless there’s a problem there? I’m convinced. This is it. I’m still inexplicably calm. It’s quiet and dim in the examination room. I’m resigned. I wonder who will be the bearer of news. The technician is very serious. Another medical fellow is brought in for confirmation and checking.
The pretty, young, cheery doctor pops in and right away says everything looks good, she just wants to confirm for herself. The lights are still dim, but the room lights up for me.
Come back in 12 months for a repeat performance.