mortality chases you down. there is nothing more terrifying to say to someone from a cancer ridden family, than “there is what appears to be…and it should be removed”.
i know that the reality is she will be fine. but it still frightens you. you think about the things that you know about one another, the secrets that you hold dear. you think about the love that you have for one another. immediately i think about photographs and things like that… and maybe in this day of microsurgery, day surgery and the whimsical way we admit ourselves for elective surgeries i am overreacting. but she’s eighteen, she’s never been sexually active and i don’t care how normal it is, it’s not okay for her to be in an operating theatre right now. that is not okay with me. every time mum goes for a mammogram, i do the mental math, i pray that they find nothing, or if they do, that it’s treatable. but the genes have it. it’s a reluctant fate when you realise that not only is the gene pool so decayed that prolonged illness in later life becomes the norm, but that our environment and culture does nothing to prevent it. this is faith hitting the curb, knowing that while she lies in surgery, her life is dedicated to God, and precious to him. and that it’s his right to take her. still doesn’t seem fair though. seems ridiculous that she’s only a baby and yet her body is turning on her already. see, i don’t think about today so much as i think about tomorrow. this is a disturbing start to gynaelogical history.
trusting god isn’t hard here. if i didn’t then i would really be struggling. as it is, she is in the best hands.