Wednesday, Jack insisted he accompany me to the Fred Hutchison Cancer Center where they were going to examine a lump in my breast. I really didn't think I needed him there. He never gave a reason why, until this morning.
Back when he was a medical student, he did a rotation with a surgical oncologist. The surgeon had just finished a biopsy of a lump on a woman's breast. She had cancer. Jack was in the room when she was told the news. She was alone, sitting my herself.
"She didn't break out into sobs or anything, but she shrank," he said. "He shoulders hunched forward and her head bent down. She became the smallest person in the world."
"I couldn't let you be there alone if they had to tell you the news," he said. "You've gotten some bad news before, but I have delivered more. There was no way you could have been alone."
He didn't want me to become the smallest woman in the world.
This blog is about the little and big thoughts that pop into my head. I once read that when Flannery O'Connor walked into a bookstore, she would want to edit her published works with a red pen. In the digital world, we have the luxury of tweaking things up after we've hit the publish button. I can be a perfectionist/procrastinator, where waiting for the ideal means little gets done. Here I will share what is not--and likely will never be--perfect.
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