First read this.
A couple of days ago, I made the trek uptown to see the new tumor doctor for the read on my MRI.
The hospital, Mount Sinai, feels like a haul every time I go there. It isn’t close to the subway and that part of Manhattan is hilly. Choose the wrong street and suddenly you’re walking uphill way more than your chosen shoes will tolerate.
I’m usually nervous as I approach the hospital. Each time, I have wondered to myself if this might be the time I’m told “the tumor grew and you need to have it removed.”
There have been times when I have cried in nervous anticipation on my way to the appointment, and others when I have cried upon leaving, feeling relief.
This time, I walked from the subway thinking “Please, universe, no more bad news. I can’t take even one more thing.”