A tumor. A tumor of the bone, in medical terms, an
osteosarcoma, most likely. We didn’t know if it was benign or malignant but I
saw that thick runaway hyperplasia tissue of the bone forming off the side of
the femur where it should have been straight. I’ve seen television shows where
people were in disbelief and all they could say were short simple sentences to
describe their emotions. When watching these shows, I would think to myself, is
that all you can say about it? Well, I’m trying now but I’m not sure I’m doing
any better. It’s a moment in time that you never expect YOURSELF to be in. I
know my facial expressions were void of any discernible emotion but I was in
disbelief inside. It felt like someone could have snapped me out of it and told
me to wake up. How did it happen to me? How could it happen to me? This isn’t
supposed to happen? These things don’t happen to good people! I know as flawed as
this statement is, it sure didn’t feel that way. We were referred to an
oncologist.
On the drive back, my sister and I were sitting with Lucky
in the back row while my brother drove and my mom sat in the front passenger
seat. We were all silent with the noise of the freeway to provide background
noise. I was sitting on the right side with Lucky in the middle. I had my left arm
wrapped around her. I looked out the window, as far as the view allowed me to,
and the inevitable question of “how much longer do I have with my precious girl”
could not be denied. I had always known since that one night, some time in
freshman year of college, where my brother told me about the work of Dolores
Cannon, that her work would come back to console me at a time of difficulty. My
mom started crying in the front with no need of explanation. My twin brother,
just 14 minutes older than me, would begin his first of many demonstrations of
examples of leadership to take charge and be the calm in the storm. He put his
right hand on her shoulder. And that was all that needed to be done. No words
spoken. I witnessed this and knew that I would have to grow from this experience,
no matter how it turned out. The time for thinking only about myself was over.
It was time I took up the responsibilities of tuning into the needs of others
and most importantly, doing so.
When we got back, Lucky was sitting in the grassy corner of
the backyard. She looked peaceful. My brother and I stroked her soft beautiful
fur. While standing around in the backyard, I couldn’t help but notice the
beauty of the late afternoon, early evening. The blue, clear sky around us and
the tranquility of the environment allowed me to think. I talked to my brother,
asking him how to think positively. I wondered if music would help. We hoped
for the tumor would be benign but we needed to bring her to the oncologist for
them to do tests to know for sure. We talked briefly on our beliefs on
spirituality. I looked at my beautiful girl, wondering about the road ahead.
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