Perspective

I wasn’t sure whether to write this for a while.

But it’s something that has meandered my mind over the course of quite a few weeks and when that happens, I eventually feel compelled to put something down on figurative paper.

The story begins back in January.

In lieu of taking you down a particularly personal path, put simply, I popped out for a routine medical check and didn’t think much more of it.

Before we go any further, I hasten to add that I’m not ill. I’m perfectly fine. Perhaps a little more wary, but perfectly fine.

Like most people, I waited the usual two-to-four weeks for the results to arrive.

Like most people, I barely gave five seconds notice to the post in those first two weeks.

By the latter two weeks, I was routinely deflated when my name failed to appear amongst the pile of envelopes.

Until it did.

In a nutshell, they needed to do some follow-up tests. All the information was there, everything explained in intricate, helpful, not entirely reassuring, detail.

So off I went again.

And so I waited again.

As odd as it sounds, a little part of me knew this next letter wouldn’t spell the end. For whatever reason, I had an inkling that if they were looking for abnormal cells, they were going to find them in me.

I think that’s why it didn’t upset me. I wasn’t really worried. I just kept it to myself for a bit.

The thing to mention here, as everything else I read emphatically states, is that abnormal cells do not mean cancer.

Their presence just means there is an increased likelihood of them becoming cancer.

Mine were of a ‘moderate’ abnormality, so in the grand scheme, in theory, this is certainly not so bad. Plenty of people are dealing with far worse, not only in this particular realm, but in countless others.

Nevertheless, it did get me thinking.

It got me thinking about everyone bearing their burden, be it cancer or something else.

It got me thinking about the ways of the world and why these things happen.

It got me thinking about whether finding abnormal cells in this location meant that there was something wrong somewhere else.

It got me thinking about all the things I haven’t done yet.

I suppose there comes a point in everyone’s life when they’re suddenly shocked by their own mortality.

I’ve been lucky to go so long without being confronted by mine.

Now, I imagine, it will never go away.

I can only liken it to the embarrassment you still feel when some hideous memory rudely intrudes its way into your day.

My medical abnormalities have been removed.

The thought of them remains.

Now, every day, I anticipate the arrival of the post. More tests mean more waiting, although I know there’s still some time to go until my address will be printed to fit a little plastic window.

My sixth sense isn’t helping this time.

Each passing day is home to a different premonition.

But every one is also home to a lot of good and a lot of hope.

And ultimately, I realise now, that’s all any of us will ever have.