He would be dancing, and my smile would turn into a grin.
The pedestrian light switches to green. I set off in time with the melody, feel as if I’m in a bubble—just me and the music—and I even manage to breathe more or less evenly, which is more than at any checkup before.
Five minutes later I cross the forecourt of Halifax Harbor Hospital. Katrina and the Waves are belting outWalking on Sunshine, and in my desperation I hum along.
I hum along and think of Jaden, for whom there would only be this moment with the music. He would soak up the mood, inhale the sea breeze, ignore the clouds, and delight in the narrow strip of light that has just won the battle against the gray.
‘This right here is a damn good moment and you’re missing it,’ he would say. In a way he’s right about that, and at the same time he isn’t.
Because it isn’t that simple. Yes, whether I worry about my test results or not has no effect on the outcome. But far too often he distracts himself when conversations or topics make him uncomfortable. As if he just wants to block them out, but that doesn’t change the fact that they’re there. And who knows, maybe in his case there are even solutions.
No matter how much I’m enjoying the music right now, my checkup appointment doesn’t just vanish into thin air because I’m not thinking about it. My illness, the risks, the responsibility to take care of my body—all of that is real. In every moment.
Ignoring something because it’s uncomfortable is wrong. Not just for me, but for Jaden too.
As soon as the opportunity arises, I’ll speak to him about his strange behavior—and I won’t let up until I know what’s behind it.
Taking a deep breath, I pull the headphones from my ears and enter the clinic. Without the music, the fear of the appointment immediately starts creeping back up inside me, and by the time I sit down twenty minutes later on the visitor’s chair in my oncologist’s office, I’m drenched in sweat.
Dr. Becker smiles at me kindly out of his light blue eyes and adjusts his glasses. ‘How are you feeling?’
With trembling fingers, I pull my notebook out of my bag to hand it to him. ‘My levels are okay, I think, at least I couldn’t find anything serious.’ With the methods available to me—and those are by far not enough.
He doesn’t take the notebook. ‘We’ve already discussed the last two times that it isn’t necessary to keep a record of your state of health.’
Yes, that’s true. Still… how could I have… I fix my gaze on him, searching for help. ‘There’s been a lot going on with me lately, getting ready to go back to work, the first days on the job. I wanted to make sure I wasn’t missing anything.’
Now he leans across the desk toward me. ‘Not missing anything is my job,’ he replies emphatically. ‘And your job is…’
‘I know what we agreed.’ And I want that too, but it’s not that simple. He has to understand that; after all, he deals with seriously ill patients every single day.
‘I want you to say it out loud.’ There is gentleness in his voice. ‘What is your job?’
My fingers tighten around the notebook. ‘To live my life,’ I answer, and I automatically think of Lilly, who wasn’t as lucky as I was. I can do what was denied to her, and what am I doing instead?
Being afraid. Limiting myself.
That is anything but living my life.
Dr. Becker nods in satisfaction. ‘Good, then let’s see what your body has to report,’ he says, reaching for my medical file.
My heart beats faster, my chair feels as if it’s wobbling.
‘Let’s start with the blood values.’ He opens the documents with the test results and looks at me over the rim of his glasses. ‘Your hemoglobin level is normal, the leukocytes are stable, no abnormalities in the lymphocytes.’
I exhale shakily and cling to my earrings as if they were lifelines, yet I still can’t shake the tension.
‘The inflammation markers are also unremarkable, and your LDH level is within the normal range.’
My gaze darts to his hand as he turns the page. The decisive words are still missing.
He gives me an encouraging smile. ‘If anything worrying had shown up, I would have mentioned it long ago.’
I know that. Still, I can’t relax. Not yet.
‘All good so far. We’ll just do a quick ultrasound of the lymph nodes.’ He gestures toward the examination couch.
I sit down on the couch and stare at the framed certificate on the wall while Dr. Becker walks around the desk and comes over to me.
