Again and Again

It's been a bit of time.  Probably not enough, but a bit is better than time standing still; I suppose.

I had another check-up on February 26th and again Dr. B didn't get enough tissue on his swab to come to a conclusion about where I stand.  He's not worried.  So, I'm not worried.  His assistant did call to let me know that she's putting a note in my file that states that I need to have my area flooded with saline prior to the swab being taken so that more tissue can be scrapped.  From what I understand, they haven't been able to scrape through the radiated tissue for a clean sample that would come back with information rather than just abnormal.  All radiated tissue comes up abnormal.  I already knew I was abnormal.  It's kind of a hobby of mine.

Dr. B was not aware that Coach had passed away and asked where he was that morning.  Oddly enough I had promised Dr. B chocolate at the previous visit and instead of answering right away I replied that I had brought chocolate, as was my end of the bargain.  He just looked at me as I attempted to hand him a sparkly purple bag filled with Hershey's Hugs and Kisses.  So I let him know that Coach had suffered a major heart attack in October and was not going to make it to any more appointments.  Then I started to cry.

The human experience is a tricky thing.  I have now been able to make it through days without crying.  Only days.  I look forward to the time when I can say that I make it through weeks.  Not because I'm not madly in love with that Coach of mine, but because I'm hoping with time these pauses and reactions won't take my breath away. Because they do.  Running into people who aren't aware that Coach has passed away still adds to that scream trapped in my throat.  I'm afraid for the next lifetime there will always be a scream trapped in my throat.  It's the one that never quite made it out the morning of October 8th.  Oftentimes I can swallow it down, but there have been a few surprised faces that I find allow that scream to bubble up.  Thankfully it ends up coming out like an awkward laugh; not quite hysteria, but odd enough that the other person stares.  Then they feel embarrassed, and I find myself comforting them.  This was the case with Dr. B.  He kept apologizing and I kept telling him not to worry, it was okay (even though none of this is okay).

So, long story short: still no results on my tests.  Each day keeps coming and going.  I am still grateful for my happily, ever, after.  I still long for my best friend.

Happy days are ahead.  I know it.