The Word

Laura knew. She always knew.

It was during the pandemic, so I wasn't allowed into hospital. I sat outside in the car park while she sat alone in the waiting room. We had been there from 11am, it had now gone 3pm. People who had been in after her were getting seen to and had left. Then she called me and said that I was allowed to come in. She had a theory that the people who got the all clear where being seen to first, then those, us, were last. Saving the worse 'til last. 

She knew.

I guess everyone hears the news in the same way: "we're sorry to say that the tests have came back positive, you have cancer" It's so tough to hear, to process, to actually understand. The Word itself. Cancer. My brain struggled with it. Squeezing Laura's hand a little tighter, as they briefed us, seemed like a futile gesture in the face of the Word. But its all I could muster in that moment. The Word froze me. 

They then gave us some time to let it sink in, to cry and to try to understand the repercussions of what we had just been told. The rest is a bit hazy. When they returned they did try to reassure us, reassure her, that it would be okay; she was young, fit and healthy. She could beat it. It's going to be difficult, yes, but they seemed confident, without losing the gravity of the situation, that she would beat it and fully recover. 

In retrospect, I think I knew this too. This was solely based on my knowing Laura for the last 20 years. She was tough and determined. However, it wasn't until she was well into her chemotherapy that I, to my eternal shame, actually realised how incredibly strong she was, both mentally and physically. 

The half hour drive back home was largely done in silence. We had a quick conversation about the kids and we decided that they didn't need to know for now. We'd cross that bridge, and the many other bridges that were being hastily constructed before us, when we got to them.

That night in bed Laura laid down the rules. They were her rules and they were fundamentally the same rules she applied to everything she did. They were her terms and were the same terms she had used all her life. They were implacable, non-negotiable. 

No-one outside family and close friends needed to know. She didn't want it on social media. She didn't want to draw attention to herself. She didn't want anyone to treat her differently. She didn't want anyone to see her as different. All of this would keep her focused on the most important thing; living. Living for the kids. She didn't need the distraction of external worries. 

Laura had the antidote to The Word and it was the very antithesis of that word: Living.