Apprehension Or

The dates stand out like neon lights on our calendars, whether they be paper or digital.

Whenever my friends and I try to schedule a mini adventure or excursion, inevitably one of those moments arise.

It is either a scan, an echo, an x-ray, “But all merely routine,” we murmur.

And thankfully, they are just that. Nestled comfortably into our projected days, weeks and months every three months or so.

Yet they all arrive wrapped in a tissue of anxiety because routine or not, they are stations on our paths that will determine our future.

I thought about that yesterday while I was enjoying a conversation with a woman far younger than I. She, is a cancer survivor, thanks to the new miraculous treatments for the dreaded disease.

However, like any responsible patient, she has regular testing, and it is a source of not quite anxiety, but certainly thought provoking.

As we chatted, I thought about my own calendar with the neon light approaching later this month, and I also remembered the day Mom heard about her best friend, Josephine.

I was 8 years old that afternoon as we were walking home from a trip to the German bakery to buy crumb buns for dinner. As we reached the corner of 52nd Street and Tenth Avenue seeing an old friend of the family approach from the other direction. Mom briefly let go of my hand as she welcomed her.

The woman looked distraught, and Mom reached out immediately to comfort her. However, before she could utter a word, she heard, “Have you heard about Josephine?”

In that long ago world, we did not have telephones, or most likely, could not afford the luxury of private lines, so Mom had not heard the news.

As she listened, Mom began to weep. She thanked the neighbor for the information, but her tears continued until we reached home on 58th Street .

Josephine, her best friend, 38 years of age, had discovered a lump. Medically, it was too late. There was no treatment or cure available. Like many other victims at that time, she was hospitalized, never to recover.

There were no neon lights on calendars then. People didn’t cringe when they remembered another test was on the horizon, because preventive medicine was virtually unknown. However, tragically, the survival rate for not only cancer but so many illnesses, was also dramatically lower..

I wish perhaps as the neon lights appear at the beginning of each month alerting each of us for another “routine” test, we could view them with appreciation instead of apprehension.

It won’t be easy to do, I know, but I think I will try..