"What was that about?"
Just then his brother walked through the kitchen and his little sister came running into the house.
Trying to sound normal and cheerful, I said, "We're running late, I'll tell you all about it in the car."
In the car, I explained what I had. To be honest, I can't remember for sure if the doctor told me that night if I had Papillary Thyroid Cancer, or if I found out the next day when I got the report, I'm pretty sure he told me on the phone, but I can't remember when it fit into the conversation. I told my son, I explained that it was very treatable and nothing to worry about. That he could come to me with any questions he had. I also asked him to please not say anything to friends or his siblings just yet... that I would talk to them when I felt they were ready and it was the right time... also, when I had more information about my treatment. I dropped him off at taekwondo, he seemed to be deep in thought.
I then called my husband. He was just about home from work, we'd get home about the same time. When I got home, he wanted to talk. He wanted to talk about treatment, specialists, surgery, how and when we'd communicate with the children and extended family, what the timeline was like, etc. I was a little annoyed... I had been trying to share this information with him for the last 2 weeks, as part of my "Just in case", "Be Prepared", "Emergency Preparedness" (whatever we are calling it) plan... he didn't want to hear any of it then. Now, he wanted 2 weeks worth of information and research in 10 minutes? Okay, I wasn't REALLY annoyed with him. I actually felt quite loved and supported. I understood that he didn't like the idea of thinking about the "what if I'm sick," but only wanted to deal with it when it was a reality. I, on the other hand, had a much better time dealing with the possibility of it, than I did the reality. I could research something that wasn't real, yet, but once it was real, my emotions took over... as I would see the next day.
I ran back out to get my oldest and he ran out to the car to get me, motioning for me to come in to the building. I came in and they had something special for the mothers. They had decorated special wood boards... then taught us all how to do a "palm strike" so we could break the board. I had to go first... when I asked why, the instructor said it was because my son was a black belt and I, therefor, had the most years of watching him do it... He said, "I should make you do something more complicated, like a back kick." To which I replied, "or like a Tornado Kick?" They all laughed (those are hard to do right, and look very impressive). I did the palm strike and broke the board... I sort of wanted to do more...
We will attribute it to the stress of the news I received that night, right?
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