(with Unfinished Business)
It’s been 15 days (and counting) since I last saw my therapist. The last time I saw her I was still functioning under the illusion that she and her doctors were working, slowly, methodically, through a long diagnostic process. Initial signs, along with a family history, pointed to MS, but in order to diagnose, they had to work down the MS rule out list. There was a long list of possibilities to test for and that would take time to get through. I did not sense any urgency. It seemed sensible to remain calm and carry on with these rule-out tests. Cancer was in the mix, and mentioned, along with the caveat that it seemed unlikely. At one point, less than a month ago, there was even talk of just needing back surgery, with a mere 10 days to recuperate.
So I wasn’t worried. And I wasn’t prepared when the very next day, the cancer diagnosis was made. I had no time to prepare. I didn’t know we’d be heading into a long, traumatic break. When she took a 3-week break last spring, we had time to prepare and plan and find ways to explicitly stay connected. This time, the bottom just fell out.