So the letter arrived.

I was expecting it although without urgency because so many had arrived with benign content. Letters to be filed in my ‘Health Folder’ when I got the chance. So I didn’t open it straight away and it was on my table threatening to hide amongst the credit card invoices and bank statements, dealt with and awaiting filing.

I opened it eventually.

It was not so benign in content, it was urging me to keep a follow-up appointment booked for me the next week. What arrogance of mine to assume.

In shock I processed the words, I made a note of the time, date and venue but still I put my slant on the words. It was just a repeat scan, just something to be repeated due to an error, something that would take a few minutes to ‘sort out’. My feelings were not of worry as I drove to the hospital so convinced of my invincibility, held tightly like a shield in front of me. As I approached the smiling nurse at the door she disarmed me, not in battle but by kindness, sympathy and gentle words lowering my shield and letting me feel the full force of my defeat.

The procedures began.

The tiny grains within were harvested, sampled to test whether they were threatening to become a poisonous pearl within the oyster shell of my breast. I have a week to wait. A week to review and reflect on my life and view it as merely the First Draft, since now there must be much editing one way or another to produce a better story.