I’d already planned to meet with my Mum, Sister Kristi and her newborn son Harrison.
Call me selfish, but I felt telling them about what was going on while together and in public – might be easier than being confined to one of our homes and having to deal with any hysterical reaction.
It wasn’t like dropping a bombshell – I just said I’d “got a new tat, courtesy of Dr D” and that my “game plan might have to change depending on the outcome of further tests”.
As expected, Mum left the cafe we were in and cried. I couldn’t help her reaction, but didn’t have the energy to go running after her. Everything is different this time. It might be nothing, but I cannot expend all of my reserves on others – even if it is my Mum. There’s a bit to get through yet.
I discreetly pulled down my top to display ‘x marks the spot’ and explained that I’d have biopsies taken in the morning.
My 34th Birthday has been memorable for all the wrong reasons, but there’s too much going on not to tell those closest to me.
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