Wait
I hear the ER doctor say the words "metastasized mass" and something I never wanted to hear again is spoken. I stand outside room 487 and pause for a few seconds as I see the layout of a room that I never wanted to set foot in again. I walk down a long long hallway with my feet feeling like magnets stuck to metal to a place I never wanted to walk to again. My heart breaks for my husband as he prepares to endure pain that no one should ever have to feel. I am reminded of the year markers that we waited to pass so the we were "disease free". One year, two years, three years (that's the special one that most throat cancers come back by), four years, five years. Five years that's the biggie - that's CANCER FREE. How wonderful it felt to reach that mark and begin our now cancer free walk into the sixth year. Now we sit here today and wait until 2:15 when the doctor will tell us words that we don't want to hear - but already know. We sit in an...