The edge of the cliff

What happens when we fall off the edge of a cliff?

I have been filling my waiting days with walks in autumnal sunshine through vineyards and forest, with vitamins and a lot of contemplation from the safety of my bed. Yesterday I watched the latest Bond film 'No Time to Die' intrigued how they recreated the characters so authentically, and wove a story web of love, family and sacrifice. It even had an authentic 60s mood.

The lab results (of doom) arrived last week but no one was able to give them to me as my gynecologist/surgeon was on holiday. Therefore, I don't know the next step in this breast cancer treatment or if the surgery has been successful.

The end of an orangey-yellow walk in last Friday afternoon in a leaf strewn coppery forest was ended with a call from the hospital, giving me an appointment with their head oncologist to get the lab results next week. I saw a little deer on the walk jumping into the depths of the forest on the horizon. 

My spouse deals in statistics. In Germany, 99.1% of stage one breast cancer sufferers survive. I looked up stories of celebrities who've survived breast cancer in a health magazine and they quote 76% survive. I can relate to the celebrity stories so well - living under a cancer cloud, insurmountable fear, and life has just stopped.

This whole process has been punctuated with people continually pulling the rug from under my feet, being explained processes and treatments that didn't work when I walked through them or might fail. It's hard to trust in the statistics.




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