I woke up this morning feeling happy. I had delicious dreams that made me feel warm and loved and….happy. It’s not a word I use often, especially to describe how I’m feeling, but this morning it was an apt word to use. My boy was in a good mood, he actually wanted to go to school. My walk was uneventful but felt good, and the stretching afterwards felt even better. I put on my lovely red sweater that I continuously get compliments on, looked in the mirror and thought to myself, “You look beautiful today, Holly. You really do.” I couldn’t say it out loud, but I *thought* it and I smiled my big smile.

Got to work and things were going well there, too. I was in a good mood, still happy. Had a funny discussion with my boss about all the people that call the library and ask for me. “It’s not my fault I’m so damn likeable!” I said. I just might have t-shirts made with that written on it.

And then I answered the phone. It was my doctor. I didn’t recognize her name because she got married, but I recognized her voice. Her name is Emily. I like her. She’s not an MD, but a Family Nurse Practitioner. My husband hates that I call her my doctor, but I told him he needs to let it go. This woman has my best interests at heart and we have similar philosophies when it comes to my health. So…she’s my doctor.  And she called me. At work. And she immediately started to apologize. “I made a mistake,” she said.

And that’s when I went to the backroom.

For you women out there, you know that you can have an abnormal pap smear and it be nothing. But my pap was *not* abnormal. I even got a paper in the mail saying it was good.

Yet it really wasn’t. And now a biopsy is in order.

Ok. It’s ok. I know many women have had this and everything turns out just fine.

And yet all I can think of is my doctor and her voice and how sorry she was–which I totally get that she’s freaking out because she made a mistake and what if I end up dying all because she made this mistake and maybe didn’t catch “it” in time.  (By the way, this is exactly why I am a librarian. My responsibilities typically do not deal with saving someone’s life. Sometimes a person’s happiness may be in my hands–matching the right person with the right book or movie or cd *is* important–but I am still no friggin’ doctor.)

I spent the next few minutes reassuring Emily that it was ok. (You read that right. I was reassuring her. I really am ridiculously kind sometimes.) She made a mistake. She’s fixing it now, right? She’s sending me to a gynecologist (“One I think you’ll like,” she said) and tests will be done and a biopsy will take place and most likely, all will be well.

I told my boss about the conversation after I got off the phone. I was a little freaked out but I pushed it from my mind. The rest of the day was filled with helping library patrons, saying goodbye to a family that have not only been excellent patrons but friends (hugs were in order for each of them), cataloging books, talking to a few friends and reading emails. When I got home I talked to my brother for a bit, then had a very enjoyable dinner and conversation with my son and talked briefly with my husband on the phone.

And all the while, I could hear Emily’s voice saying, “I’m so sorry. I don’t know how I missed this.”

Then what did I do? I fucking Googled it.  I looked up a few key words and what’s the first thing that came up? C’mon, you know it. CANCER, of course!  I started to read the Mayo Clinic site then just said “Stop!” I went back to Google and typed in endometrial biopsy and looked for specific information about what was happening with my body. NONE of this means I have cancer or any serious problem. It only means that my doc missed something when my test results came back, and now extra precautions are being taken to make sure I’m really ok and that this abnormal test result is truly nothing.

*deep breath in*

*deep breath out*

So…look…I don’t believe in God. I don’t believe in a whole helluva lot actually. But…I’m still going to throw this out to the universe…

Don’t let this be the BEFORE.

Don’t let today be THE day. The day that ends up defining me and the rest of my life.

Let this just be another day in this chapter of my life….but not one of the last chapters.

The middle.

The middle would be good.