I’ve never been more exhausted in my lifetime.
I sleep nearly all day. Completely deplete of energy.
By 9pm I realize my phone has died.
A call from Northbrook. Left a message. It’s Dr. F on his cell phone.
I text him.
“It’s me. Is it too late to talk to you?”
“Give me two minutes. I’ll call you.” His response is immediate.
I go into our closet upstairs, where all the most important phone calls are had.
“Jeni. The lymph node cells are malignant. Consistent with breast cancer primary. The second area I sampled is benign, but I think I missed it. There is something else going on. You need to call a surgeon. I have one for you. First thing Monday. I am sorry to give you this news.”
Fuck. I call my dad, “Fuck.”
And so it begins.