Wednesday, December 17, 2008

The News

When the doctor first uttered the words "malignant melanoma" my husband and I were seated comfortably in my pulmonologist's office. We were there for what I thought was a routine check-in about a week after my surgery to remove what we thought was an isolated tumor from my right lung. I remember immediately thinking this was not good, and then turning to my husband and saying, alhamdulilah... but probably only because I knew that was what I was supposed to say. As the doctor continued, laboriously trying to describe in as delicate terms as possible, that we were facing a life-threatening cancer, the tears began to break free of their wells. I kept looking over at my husband to see if he was going to cry- a part of me wanted him to. But he remained stoic.



We didn't ask too many questions. It was clear we were dealing with something pretty bad, and for once in my life, I had no journalistic desire to ask an excessive amount of questions or delve in deeper.



On the car ride home a thousand thoughts danced through my mind: would I ever have kids? Would my husband remarry? Where would I be buried? But mostly I thought about how my mom was going to react.



I think my mom knew something was off when we came in. My eyes were moist and red, but I had a phony smile plastered on my face. My husband broke the news to my mother, and I could read the shock as it registered. But my mom is one of those one in a million people who can suffer the worst, and keep themselves together. My thoughts shifted to my father, hundreds of miles away, who was next in line to receive the news. It was awful. Each time a family member would hear, I'd fall apart all over again.

Zaied's parents were at hajj at the time, and I dreaded the phone call that was going disrupt their sleep.

The week in between coming home from my surgery and hearing the diagnosis I really felt like I was healing... I was still reliant on pain medications, but my scar was closing up, I was able to sleep longer at night, and my breathing was improving. But as soon as the pulmonogist shared with us the diagnosis, I felt my appetite seal up, and my entire body begin to ache.