A Sentimental Journey...Grace and Chocolate

*Sigh*

I've been debating about writing this. It is very personal and may not be relevant to everyone. So, I almost chose to go through this next chapter of my life silently and without comment. Almost. Then I remembered why I started this blog in the first place. To give my children (and hopefully theirs) a window into who I am and what I think about life and family and faith, etc. Someday, I hope they will read these blog entries and feel connected to who I am. I also hope that anyone who reads what I have to say can relate and will have the assurance that they are not alone out there. In light of that, I am going to bring you all along on a journey with me. Feel free to jump off the train at any time if you're not enjoying the scenery. I won't take it personally.

Let me set the scene for you. I'm sitting on the table in my OBGYN's office waiting for her to come in. I'm nervous. Feeling vulnerable as ever under the little square sheet. Like many women, some of the most dramatic moments of my life, both negative and positive, were played out in a setting such as this. Waiting to hear the verdict in any number of different scenarios. Today I'm feeling particularly apprehensive. I know something is not right. I've know it for a while now. Enter Dr. Patrice Firpo. She is awesome. She is bubbly. She is extremely knowledgeable, honest, direct and caring. She is everything I like my doctor to be. I'm so grateful to have found her. Especially now.

She starts talking and I'm hearing words tossed around. Fibroids, anemia, prolapse, hydrosalpynx, surgery and then THE word I was hoping not to hear. Hysterectomy. My stomach drops and my heart kicks it up a notch and somewhere from deep within me I feel a silent moan surfacing, "Noooooo!" My eyes fill with tears but I breathe deeply and pull it together. I tell myself to suck it up and pay attention. I need to ask questions and get all of the information I can. I have some big decisions to make. In this moment, even though I am not by myself, I feel terribly alone. The decision is mine, no one can make it for me.

I walk out of the exam room a little in shock and somehow changed. Older. Defective. Empty. Must be something about that word. Hysterectomy. I hate that word. Reminds me of the word hysterical. Then I laugh to myself, "Hey, maybe it's not such a bad thing to have a hysteria-ectomy. I could use a little more peace and a little less hysteria in my life, right?" Might as well laugh if you can't cry.

I want my mommy. I want my husband. I want to push the rewind button and hear a different diagnosis. I tell myself, "stop feeling sorry for yourself. It's not cancer, it could be so much worse. People have this done all the time and they are just fine. Think about it...no more periods, ever. No more pain. It'll be an improvement. You'll feel better after the recovery, etc..." I'm trying to see the silver lining, here. It's not really working that well but at least I'm trying. I start praying for strength.

As I emerge, squinting into the grey glare of the rainy day and head toward my car, I'm suddenly hungry. I want a big, juicy burger and a chocolate sundae with extra hot fudge because everything feels better after chocolate, right? But I'm in Kingwood and I don't know my way around and I'm really not in the mood to go exploring right now. I spot a Jason's Deli across the street. Resignedly, I get in the car and head over to eat a healthy lunch telling myself that there will be an opportunity for chocolate later.

I find a table in the farthest corner of the restaurant and open the book I brought with me, hoping to distract myself. I ALWAYS have a book with me or on Nook so that no matter where I am, I won't ever be bored. Today, I am reading the same line in my book over and over and it is not penetrating my cluttered brain. I decide that a restaurant filled with a noisy lunchtime crowd might just be the best place to call David and tell him my news. He is always my rock. My anchor in the storm. I know he will make me feel better. He answers on the second ring and the moment I hear the deep timbre of his voice, I realize my mistake. The emotion of the day is triggered by that familiar voice that I know and love so well and I am overcome. I immediately begin sobbing right in the middle of Jason's Deli all over my Chicken Caesar Wrap. Great. Just great. Yes, I'm going to need plenty of chocolate for this one. Jumbo Godiva Dark chocolate. Nothing less will do. Add to that the sweet grace and mercy of God and the loving arms of my husband. If I have all of that, I can do this thing. Let the journey begin...

~To be continued~

Blessings,
~Cat