I have decided that the phrase “suspicious nodule” is high on my list of life’s least favorite phrases. Obviously, it’s not as bad as “it’s malignant” which has to be one of the worst, but in terms of creating tension and anxiety, it’s probably pretty close.
Chances are, of course, that it will turn out to be nothing serious — so many times medical worries wind up forgotten in a few months. But I spent a lot of time today thinking about tears, because they kept running down my face and falling off my chin. I wasn’t crying in the way I think of crying, no gulping sobs, no struggle to catch my breath, no snot-filled nose embarrassingly dripping. It wasn’t even really weeping. It was just…tears. Overflowing. Steadily. Like a gentle summer rain of crying instead of the thunderstorms and downpours that have been my more typical (albeit rare) cries.
Anyway, my mom will have a CAT scan on Monday and I’ll know more then.