In 2002 the surgeon arrived after an exploratory surgery to say, “Mr. Crawford you have Pseudomyxoma Peritonei.” She explained what she found and said she’d called an oncologist. When she left I called our middle child, Marcy.
This week husband said he’d see the doctor with me. “Not necessary. I’m going there and then to work.” I handled that first appointment fine. Had lunch with friends at CBWF and drove to the surgeon. I felt rather grand when I left there. After all, it’s a lump. Had one of those before. I know dozens of women that suffered with these problems.
Only the next morning when I realized the radiologist talked with the surgeon before he talked with me, I felt a bit squeamish. When he said I needed to call the surgeon for an appointment, I said, “okay.” Drove out of the hospital parking lot, down the hill, into a driveway, dug through my purse for the surgeon’s phone number. Couldn’t find it.
Husband wasn’t home. Didn’t want to call him anyway. He wouldn’t know the number and I wanted to tell him in person. So why did I call Marcy? Cause that’s what daughters are for.
Someplace in Capsules of Hope I have a whole thing about not leaning on your kids, they break. However, at that moment in time, I needed to talk about what happened. How I felt. Marcy couldn’t find the phone number I needed, but there is something about sharing the weight of what just happened.
Thank you, Marcy Lou, you are better than a dozen roses in my day, a sweet rare treasure.
Mom the Kat
This week husband said he’d see the doctor with me. “Not necessary. I’m going there and then to work.” I handled that first appointment fine. Had lunch with friends at CBWF and drove to the surgeon. I felt rather grand when I left there. After all, it’s a lump. Had one of those before. I know dozens of women that suffered with these problems.
Only the next morning when I realized the radiologist talked with the surgeon before he talked with me, I felt a bit squeamish. When he said I needed to call the surgeon for an appointment, I said, “okay.” Drove out of the hospital parking lot, down the hill, into a driveway, dug through my purse for the surgeon’s phone number. Couldn’t find it.
Husband wasn’t home. Didn’t want to call him anyway. He wouldn’t know the number and I wanted to tell him in person. So why did I call Marcy? Cause that’s what daughters are for.
Someplace in Capsules of Hope I have a whole thing about not leaning on your kids, they break. However, at that moment in time, I needed to talk about what happened. How I felt. Marcy couldn’t find the phone number I needed, but there is something about sharing the weight of what just happened.
Thank you, Marcy Lou, you are better than a dozen roses in my day, a sweet rare treasure.
Mom the Kat
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