It's not that I'm afraid to die.
It's that I have this job to do here. I'm Fiona's mom. She doesn't go back and forth between her parents like so many kids do; she's with me all the time. This is where she lives and I'm her mother.
Last night I considered the worst case scenario, not to be morbid, but to be prepared. She'd go live in Los Angeles with her father and his girlfriend. She'd go to school where I used to teach, or someplace like it.
It didn't seem possible that we wouldn't just keep living here. I made apple crisp and I drove around delivering it to people last night and then I came home and went to bed.
I had my appointment this morning, after I brought Fiona to school.
And Dr. Kava told me that I do not have cancer.
And if I had, I know it wouldn't necessarily have meant I'd fall over dead next week and Fiona would have to go live on the set of NBC's Parenthood, instantly transformed into little miss Hollywood... but my mind was doing funny things.
I'm relieved. I've had two months of not being so sure of what's going on and I'm glad to have at least this piece of the puzzle in place.
I like reading Thoreau's journals.
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