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“I’m not sure I can afford you.”
“There’s lots of different ways you can pay me.”
“Are we talking money?”
“Nope.” I crook my finger at her. “Come here.”
When she’s right in front of me, I tip her chin up for a kiss. “There. That pays for dishes.” I kiss her again. “That covers wiping the counters and table.” After another kiss, I say, “That’s good for cleaning up the Legos in the living room.”
“You’re a cheap maid.”
“The big things are far more expensive. Like, snow shoveling is a blow job. Nonnegotiable.”
That has her laughing like she did while we were on vacation when everything was fun and funny.
“Good to know. I’ll be ready for snow days.”
“Pool maintenance is also a blow job, whereas vacuuming is covered by a kiss.”
“Is this written down somewhere so I can be prepared for future obligations?”
“I’ll make you a spreadsheet.”
“Don’t put it in writing!”
Her eyes are sparkling with happiness that immediately dims when her phone rings. “Oh God, that’s my doctor.”
“Take the call. Find out what it is, and we’ll figure it out. I love you.”
She nods and nearly drops the phone as she presses the green button and puts the call on speaker so I can hear, too. “Hello?”
“Hi, Iris, it’s Dr. Jenkins.”
It freaks me out that the doctor herself is calling, but I keep that thought to myself.
“I’ve got your results, and there’s good news along with a tiny bit of bad news. We did find a small precancerous spot on the right side that’s been caught at the earliest stage, which is the best possible timing. The second biopsy was negative, which is great news.”
“So… What do we do about the precancerous spot?”
“The oncologist will probably recommend a lumpectomy to remove it, most likely with a short course of radiation therapy to reduce the likelihood of recurrence. After the spot is removed, it’s sent to pathology. Those results determine any future treatment. You’ll be on a regular schedule of mammograms and ultrasounds going forward. Finding that lump when you did most likely saved you from a much bigger deal down the road.”
The doctor goes on to tell her that an appointment has been made with the oncologist for two days from now and that we’ll know more after that meeting.
“I know this is a lot to take in, Iris, but please don’t panic. Try to think of it the same way you would having a suspicious mole removed before it can turn into something more, with a little added treatment to reduce the odds that it comes back.”
“Thank you,” she says tearfully. “I appreciate you getting back to me so quickly and explaining it the way you did.”
“I’m here for you. We’ll get you through this. I’ll talk to you again after you meet with the oncologist.”
“Okay. Thanks again.”
“You got it.”
I take the phone from Iris, put it on the counter and then place my hands on her shoulders. “If it was going to be anything, it sounds like a best-case scenario, don’t you think?”
She nods. “I suppose so.”
“We’ll take this a step at a time. We’ll see the oncologist on Thursday and see what they recommend and then do whatever it takes to get this thing out of you so you can move on.”
