The Aftershocks

Perhaps the worst thing about a disaster (natural, or not) is that once you are acutely aware of risk, you start looking for the aftershocks. Many of us experienced this phenomenon after 9-11. Our spoiled, untarnished, naive sense of peace was wiped off the map forever that day and we felt vulnerable.

A few short weeks after returning from vacation, my mother called on a Friday afternoon to tell me that she needed to leave her marriage. She asked if she could stay with me until she could figure out her next move. Of course, the answer was yes.

I had a lot on my mind. Two days before I was surprised and disappointed to get my period --- apparently, I was not pregnant and would need to begin the process again. I went for blood work first thing Saturday morning and then took my usual long, weekend walk into town. Along the way, my cell phone rang and the fertility resident on call told me - rather abruptly - that I was pregnant, but my blood levels indicated that I was having a miscarriage.

Surprise, a fleeting moment of happiness, sadness and fear swept through my body like a chinook wind. Oh, the aftershocks.

My mother arrived a few hours later and we played a game I like to call 'trying to paste together the pieces of your life like you know what you're doing'. It involves me trying to confidently reassure someone that everything is going to be fine, and that we'll get through it together, when I actually have no idea what I'm doing. My sister drove down to be with us and we played that game together for a few days, while I was simultaneously having a miscarriage. I remember thinking that things couldn't get worse. And then I noticed that my mother was feeling a lymph node in her armpit.

My mom is a breast cancer survivor, and the immediate cold, dark fear that coursed through my veins was that her breast cancer was back. We called her surgeon, she went in for a biopsy, and we learned that what she actually had was recurrent lymphoma.

Negotiations with God began in that moment. Its okay if my parents get divorced. Its okay that I'm having a miscarriage. Please just let my mother live. And then a new fear beaded on my brow like sweat --- what's next?

After 9-11 I understood why its called terrorism. Its not just the act itself that gets you -- its the terror that ensues while anticipating the next event.