On my way home, my house of cards came tumbling down. I don't know which driver was worse, the one driving from Dr. Jane's office, or the one driving right now. Although no physical reports distracted my sight, unanswered questions clouded my mind, lowering the thickest fog onto my eyes…the kind you encounter on an early morning drive across the 5, through the San Joaquin valley.
My mind was a broken web of thoughts, each one ending without clarity like the silk strands sailing in the wind. Why couldn't I connect them? Why wouldn't any of them lead me to the center? Center yourself! I couldn't remember the last time I was this lost. I had always felt like the master of logic. Its principles are grounded. I was grounded. Where there were no answers, deductive reasoning lowered me onto solid ground. Solutions came as second nature. I had answers for the world! I can weave one of these strands back together. Just one.One...all I need is one to lead me to the center.Please, let me weave one. Dawn…
How am I going to tell you?
So many plans.This isn’t supposed to happen this way.Could I really have cancer?Tears started welling. Weave!Keep weaving.Stay positive.You don’t know yet.No one knows.These reports, they're just presumptions.Primitive, preliminary guesses.There’s still hope.I dried my eye.
So many plans… Months to live? Years?That’s not right.How can I put that burden on her?My eyes filled up. Stay positive.Everything will be fine.We have a biopsy.They'll get the results.Only then will we know for certain.Why are you concerned with the unknown?Stay grounded.
So many plans.Family? Kids? Will I be able to give her what she wants?She’s gonna be devastated!I lost it. Stay strong. I couldn't. Not on this ride. I should have pulled over. I was a mess, but I was trying to make it home soon. Dawn likes it when I get home at an early hour. It was already dark.
I entered the house quiet as a thief and like a chicken trying to escape the coop, I avoided bringing up the conversation by pacing around, opening door after door, restroom, patio, bedroom, closet, with nowhere to go. Who was I kidding?
I eventually explained the biopsy to her, never mentioning anything about cancer. In times of crisis, she isn't always the most optimistic soul, so I in threw in the words nodules and benign. “So more waiting?” she asked with a relaxed tone, "OK then, I’m gonna take a shower.”
My brain was pounding my conscience to a pulp. I should have told her. In this situation, pessimism would work to our advantage. She could brace herself for the worst and only positive things could follow. I should have just gotten it over with. What was holding me back?
I was torn. Should I tell her now? What if the biopsy comes back and it is cancer.It’ll be worse.What if the biopsy comes out good? It didn’t matter. For once, the cons quickly outweighed the pros. That’s when you know you’re asking the wrong question.
Why am I struggling with this?What question am I debating?Am I going to have the strength to tell her?She’s going to cry.It hurts me so much when she cries. I start to cry.
I realized which question I was debating: How come a man feels weak and ashamed to cry? I'll leave this to the cultural sociologists and neuro-psychologists to debate. I should tell her in the shower.At least my tears can wash away.
Lost. I was so lost. Loss of words, loss of courage, loss of strength. Stay Strong. I gathered myself, headed towards the room and grabbed my towel.