Dealing With It

8:30 A.M. and Tabor was running late on an already full day. A morning doctor's appointment followed by a ten mile drive and two afternoon meetings. These days she had a second job as back-up for a departing colleague. Two jobs and her time was always overfilled. She wouldn't have been late except for the 6:00 AM phone call. That call resulted in several other phone calls all of which took more precious time. Time she didn't have. Also she was moving slowly and without energy because for some reason she woke up at 2:00 A.M. after just a few hours of sleep. She found herself lying in bed --wide awake. Never really got back to sleep.

The trip to the doctor's was way back in her old neighborhood. Morning rush hour was in full play and she had to squeeze her little car between two big SUVs. Although she was driving back to the old neighborhood, she found it irritating that the new buildings and road changes were confusing. This confusion seemed to happen to her more often these days, and it was irritating. She began to realize that her distracted mind needed to concentrate or she would miss the turn.

Arriving at the doctor's office 20 minutes early gave her time to make some calls to work to let people know of her changed schedule. Too much sympathy and chit chat. Just make sure that the right people get the changes. Just need to get through this day.

She liked this doctor and had gone to him for years. He asked how she was and she provided the usual 'fine.' He didn't really want to know and she didn't really want to start the conversation. Four clinical breast massages later he called the nurse into the room and Tabor took the 'position.' God this was painful this time! It felt as if he was inserting pointed knives. Tabor bit her lip as tears streamed down her face. Doc E. apologized and did try to be more gentle. Tabor commented that getting old was the pits. She knew if she didn't stop these tears they would flow like melting snow. Doc E. asked again if she was OK. Tabor smiled and winced.

It wasn't until she got to the technician who was taking her blood later that the how-are-you question was answered honestly. Tabor was surprised that she was able to say directly to this perfect stranger that her father has passed on last night. Now she had said it three times this morning. Once to her husband, once to the secretary at work and now to this perfect stranger. Since it didn't get any easier, Tabor decided she wasn't going to say it anymore.

Tabor dealt with things in the cliched fashion of not thinking about it, not talking about it, not retrospectively writing about it, not dwelling on it. It was over. The long battle of hospitals and IV's and feeling guilty because her brothers and sister and sister-in-law bore the heavy burden was passing. Tabor felt relief. But she wouldn't tell her family that. They wouldn't think her honest...just cold. She knew that she would be dealing with this in bits and pieces in years to come. But that was the only way she could swallow it right now.

Now for the call to the kids...Tabor realized she had to say it again.