Hi everyone, take a look at another excerpt from my new book on grief.
Chapter 1
Pre-Loss:
The beginning of a long journey into darkness
Shock, denial and anger
January 10, 2008
I was in the gynecologist's office at the Hawkesbury General Hospital sitting uncomfortably on a straight chair with my back to the wall while the doctor was examining Louise, and I could not help but wonder how fast the events leading us to this office had unraveled. It seemed like only yesterday that our GP, trying unsuccessfully to conceal the concern in his voice, had told us, after examining Louise's hard and swollen stomach, to have a CT scan and blood work done as soon as possible.
I remember the mounting trepidation I felt as I rushed to make the last minute appointments with medical labs as most of them were closed for the new year holiday, and the impatience and foreboding creeping up on me as I sat in the hallway of the medical center I had scrounged to find, waiting for the CT scan results. "It's going to be all right", I repeated to myself over and over again as I tried to create hopeful scenarios with a more benign outcome than the dreaded 'C word. However, my worst fear materialized when I learned from the radiologist that the scan showed two large anomalies on Louise's ovaries. "There's no way to tell if the tumors are cancerous yet", he said in an effort to ease our obvious apprehension. "I guess there's still hope" I thought, although the sentence "possible ovarian carcinoma" I read on his report sounded pretty damn scary and heavily suggestive on cancer. At that particular moment, my thoughts went to Louise, and how she must have felt to be the main rider in that roller-coaster ride of dread and hope. "What a bum wrap" I thought with sadness.
Read more at:
Chapter 1
Pre-Loss:
The beginning of a long journey into darkness
Shock, denial and anger
January 10, 2008
I was in the gynecologist's office at the Hawkesbury General Hospital sitting uncomfortably on a straight chair with my back to the wall while the doctor was examining Louise, and I could not help but wonder how fast the events leading us to this office had unraveled. It seemed like only yesterday that our GP, trying unsuccessfully to conceal the concern in his voice, had told us, after examining Louise's hard and swollen stomach, to have a CT scan and blood work done as soon as possible.
I remember the mounting trepidation I felt as I rushed to make the last minute appointments with medical labs as most of them were closed for the new year holiday, and the impatience and foreboding creeping up on me as I sat in the hallway of the medical center I had scrounged to find, waiting for the CT scan results. "It's going to be all right", I repeated to myself over and over again as I tried to create hopeful scenarios with a more benign outcome than the dreaded 'C word. However, my worst fear materialized when I learned from the radiologist that the scan showed two large anomalies on Louise's ovaries. "There's no way to tell if the tumors are cancerous yet", he said in an effort to ease our obvious apprehension. "I guess there's still hope" I thought, although the sentence "possible ovarian carcinoma" I read on his report sounded pretty damn scary and heavily suggestive on cancer. At that particular moment, my thoughts went to Louise, and how she must have felt to be the main rider in that roller-coaster ride of dread and hope. "What a bum wrap" I thought with sadness.
Read more at:
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