The Phone Call of Doom

October 8, 2012:

Monday morning and back to work. My left side still isn't working and really does hurt. It's starting to bruise also, which is quite lovely. The right side is healing quite nicely and on schedule.

After school, I am running a packing event for the non-profit charity I run (Pantry Packs...you can find us on another blog), when I get a phone call from my now-ex-husband. The doctor has called the house and won't leave a message. She's going to be calling me on my cell phone.

What I don't tell my now-ex-husband in that moment is it's a bad sign if she won't leave a message or tell him. Damn...here comes the phone call of doom.

When it comes in 5 minutes later, it really is doom and gloom. The big "C" word. Cancer. And let's be honest, I don't hear anything else other than that. Except, I also heard the words "survival rate." Seriously just like the movies, I didn't hear ANYTHING she was saying. (They really should follow this up with an email, because I didn't have any real details after that phone call). 

There was something about an MRI that needed to be done ASAP, and someone would call me with the  time and place of that. Sure...whatever...not thinking anything right now.

It's about 4:30pm and I run into the school office hoping to find someone there so that I can tell them "Not coming to school tomorrow!" but this appears to be the one day in the history of public education when everyone has left the building before 4pm.

I get home as my now-ex-husband is leaving to ref two high school soccer games. Hmmm, do I tell him before he's about to get into a giant truck and get on the roads? Yes, I can't have this knowledge all to myself for 3 hours until he gets home. I know...I'm a sucky wife. Don't really care in this moment.