whatever the odds

I've consulted with a surgeon, been marked up with a Sharpie. Drifted off in a frigid OR, woken up minus the lump. But I haven't really been there. My doctor was confident, so I went along with her benign assumptions, trusted in my genes. So I've had the concern but not the panic, not the worry that everything had changed. I've never looked at packages and lapels dolled up with pink ribbons and wondered if the funds raised might someday be for me.

If only that were true for the old acquaintance whose aggressive diagnosis I received word of today. If only that were true for my student's mother whose arm will be amputated Monday in a last-ditch effort to stop the progress of her disease.

But, life happens, and this is a part. Fair or unfair is not even the question. Challenge for these women and their families not even the word. Though my biology says I'm more likely to finally have a stroke that's not metaphorical, someday, of course, the patient waiting for the cancer doctor could again be me. But that's not why, in the meantime, I'll contribute, participate in the Relays, send out the best possible thoughts for the best possible outcomes, help out with the kids. My motives are simple. I just want them to live.