I stroll down the hallway in my tattered housecoat, and knock on my 15 year old daughter's bedroom door. There's no noise from inside, and knowing she's a heavy sleeper, I open the door and turn on her bedside radio. The Backstreet Boys blare out of the little black box, and Kate covers her ears with her pastel pink pillow.
"Wake up, sleepy head," I call, while walking slowly down the beige carpeted stairs toward the kitchen. I put the kettle on, and fix myself a bowl of oatmeal. Not my favourite breakfast, but it would have to do for a little while. I have a busy day planned.
Kate wanders into the kitchen, still in her red flannel pajamas, and wipes the sleep from her eyes. She flops onto one of the two dining room chairs, as the others are either broken or used with another set. Kate has her head in her hands, and I slide a glass of apple juice in front of her. She takes a sip and smiles.
"I love you," she says and leaves the room to get changed for school.
Those three words are my life. They are one of the only things that can brighten my mood, even on the darkest days. Sort of like a nice sun shower, or a flower in full bloom. It's one of those things that always makes you feel good inside.
It's half past 8 in the morning, and Kate has already left for school. Since it's nice and sunny, I've decided that I'll take a drive out in the country, before doing what I need to do for the day. I stuff some money into my pocket for lunch, and drive out of the driveway in my red ?97 Dodge Neon. The small angel on my dashboard nods with the motion of the car, its hands firmly clasped in front of its small plastic body. My guardian angel. It had belonged to my late husband, and I had placed it on the dashboard without thinking a month earlier. I don't know why I did it, everything seemed all right. My car had stalled a few times that morning a month ago - nothing out of the ordinary. I had been on my way to see the doctor. I had been feeling exhausted, and suspected that it was the early stages of menopause, but I decided I may as well make sure that was all it was. I've always had the need for closure. Sometimes I wish I hadn't left my driveway that morning...
My doctors office was quite small, but very friendly looking. His secretary took my name and pointed me toward the waiting room. The waiting room was very small as well, connecting the front hall with several small rooms off to the right. The doors were closed, but I had been to see the doctor enough to know that one was his office and the others were examining rooms.
I was sitting in the waiting room for quite some time, my guess would be about an hour, but I had no way of knowing, not that it mattered. I found no need in wearing a watch; I had taken the day off of work, and I had all the time in the world.
A small girl and her mother walked quickly out of one of the examining rooms - the mother with a look of pale relief on her face and the girl with an orange lollipop in her mouth. As they passed me, the mother gave me a sympathetic look, and the child gave me an awkward glance; obviously she knew staring was wrong.
Inside one of the examining rooms, and behind the door of confidentiality, I told Dr. Locke what I thought was wrong. His eyes never left mine, but I wished they had. They were too sincere. The silver in his light blue eyes reflected the light, and made them seem almost unreal. They were too perfect, too serene for a doctor's office. His forehead was free of wrinkles, but the ones at the corners of his eyes had character. They looked friendly, if you know what I mean. They're the kind of wrinkles you'd get from smiling too much, rather than frowning.
Dr. Locke assured me that the symptoms were typical of those starting menopause, but he had better run some tests to be sure. I didn't protest. As I said, I needed closure.
I wasn't worried at all, don't get me wrong. I've known for quite some time that the day would come when I would have to face menopause, and there was not a better time than the present. I had a steady job teaching grade 12 History, making a decent amount of money, and a daughter on the honour roll. My mortgage was paid, and I was about two payments away from owning my car.
Dr. Locke suggested I take a few blood tests, an ultrasound and a mammogram, just because I was there and had the time. He said that he would call me with the results later in the week, and gave me one of his famous "everything's ok, don't worry about a thing" smiles. I trusted that smile. I knew it very well, and it was almost never wrong. That visit was an exception.
Exactly a week after the doctor's visit, I heard from Dr. Locke. He sounded cheerful, but there was something strange in his voice that I couldn't quite place. He gave me the good news that everything came up negative on the blood tests and on the ultrasound. I was ecstatic. You can't imagine how relieved I was.
"But," I wasn't expecting a but, "something showed up on the mammogram."
There was complete silence.
"Something showed up? What was it?" I asked softly, shocked at how light my voice had seemed. There was more silence on the other end. It seemed like an eternity, and the space not filled flooded inside of me. He sighed and said it could be nothing at all, although there was a possibility it was cancerous.
Cancer.
My jaw literally dropped at that word. Tears formed in the corners of my eyes, and I honestly had no clue what to say. How was one supposed to reply to something like that? It just couldn't be.
Even at the time, I knew that it was cancer. I can't explain how I knew, but I just did. The only way I can describe it is like when you just know that your best friend is about to call you and they do. Or when you know that a certain song will come onto the radio. Intuition is a funny thing sometimes, especially when you dread the worst.
