Day Three: Rock Bottom

Day three started much like the past two. I made breakfast, ran the dishwasher, and raced off to work. Charming and Casey headed for the pool to play, with Charming promising me he was going to be online within the hour so that he could catch up on the client work he'd been neglecting.

I was sitting at my desk, plugging away at press outreach, when the office receptionist buzzed my line, telling me that I had a call from the doctor's office on line 2. I was confused - I hadn't been to a doctor in almost a month, and wasn't expecting to hear from anyone.

"Ms. 'Rella? Did you get our voicemail?"

"No, what voicemail?"

"You need to come back into the office. Your pap results showed a presence of cancer cells on your cervix, and we need to..."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing, and I think my heart stopped beating for a minute. I asked the nurse on the line if I could call her back from my mobile, and stepped outside, trying to process what I'd just heard. After a few breaths, I dialed the line. The nurse, who clearly had no concept of bedside manner, told me that I was going to have to schedule a cone biopsy, and that based on the results of that biopsy, the doctors would have to perform a partial or full hysterectomy. As if that wasn't bad enough, the nurse told me that the biopsy itself could have consequences, including compromising my ability to carry a baby to term or requiring that I spend my third trimester on bedrest.

And that was the best case scenario. The cancer cells, if they were right, could mean a quick and painful death. I hung up the phone, completely numb. Once I composed myself, I called my father, a physician, and the man who always tells me I'm overreacting and that everything is fine immediately went into panic mode - telling me that I had to get a second opinion ASAP and recommending another physician in the area who would be able to treat me well. I asked him to call my mother and break the news to her - I didn't want to deal with my mother's devastation, couldn't deal with it, and suddenly I was sobbing.

I couldn't bear to go back into the office and sit, pretending everything was ok. I also didn't want to go home and share very personal and devastating news with three people I'd spent less than 24 hours with. I called Charming, praying that he'd answer. Nothing. We had argued in the morning about him neglecting his work - I was worried that his demanding and finicky client would be upset at his absence - and I knew he was ignoring my calls. Finally, I sent him a text.

"Please call me. Dr. office just called. They got my test results. Found cancer cells. I'm freaking out."

Then I called my best friend, who luckily was on summer break from the school where she teaches, and who said immediately, "Don't go back inside. Sit in your car and don't try to drive anywhere. I can be there in 20 minutes."

By then, Charming was calling me repeatedly, and when he answered, he told me to come home. I explained that I was in shock and didn't really want to discuss the situation with his parents until I'd had a chance to let it sink in, nor did I want to upset his daughter. BFF was going to take me to get a drink and let me cry, then drive me home. I told him I'd call him around 2:30, the time that my father expected to have an appointment set and more information from the doctor's office.

At 2:30, I called Charming, after hearing from my father. No answer. I waited 15 minutes and tried again. Still no answer. Three calls and an hour and a half later (and an angry message from me), he returned my calls and said:

"I didn't have my phone with me. I was snorkeling at the beach with my daughter. If you have a problem with that, maybe we should break up so that you can go deal with your health problems."

I felt like I'd been slapped in the face. Who was this man I was living with? Snorkeling? He went snorkeling - less than an hour after I'd been told that I had cancer. That I'd have to have a hysterectomy. That I might die. BFF was furious, and the afternoon became a giant argument with he and his family that is better left unspoken. In the end, I felt compelled to apologize to his family for inconveniencing them and ruining their vacation day, and apologized to Charming for being upset that he was with his daughter.

But still, resentment kept building. If my horrible diagnosis wasn't enough to have a moment of his time, if snorkeling with his daughter was more important than lending me a shoulder to cry on or even just being there for me (we'd been together almost a year at this point), then nothing would ever be. I realized that day what it meant to date a dad - I would always be number two, no matter how traumatic or emergency my situation. I would never be enough of a priority for Charming to say, "I have to be here for her right now."

Mixed Feelings

After another sleepless night - I assumed by this point that Casey's fits would be a nightly ritual, and really wasn't looking forward to the coming three weeks - I trudged off to the office. The night before had slowly gotten better. For whatever reason, Casey decided that she didn't want to glower at me all night, and sometime after the dishes were done, asked me to take her in the pool for a second snorkel lesson. Charming quickly jumped in and took over, and I wound up sitting by the side of the pool watching.

Again, I was full of mixed feelings. On one hand, I was happy that they were able to spend time together. I was happy that they were both so happy. But, I was confused. He wanted me to build a relationship with his daughter, and the opportunity that I'd had to do something with her was taken away when he took over less than 5 minutes after I got in the pool. And I couldn't help but feeling rejected and left out of the situation. When he'd gotten in, I'd been completely excluded from their conversation and interaction. Was I wrong for these feelings?

Day Two

After making a big breakfast (I'd made a late night stack of pancakes for Casey at her request, and she'd insisted that I make them for her again the following morning), I headed off to work, exhausted from the previous night.

After our pancakes, Casey had decided that she didn't want to go to bed, and had thrown her first fit - which consisted of her running from room to room, wailing and crying, and refusing to talk to anyone who approached her. She parked herself in front of our bedroom door until almost 3 am, while Charming and her grandparents tried to appease her and made extensions to her bed time (each subsequent time wasn't enough for her, and when her time was up, the fit resumed).

After a long day at the office, I headed home, ready to have a glass of wine and unwind by the pool, a post-stressful day ritual. As I walked into the house, I was greeted by the smell of dinner, which Charming was making with Casey and his father while his mother sipped my last glass of Chardonnay. When Casey saw me, she glared at me angrily, placed herself territorially between her father and I, and said, "What are you doing home already?"

I was stung. I had tried so hard the night before to make a good impression, and I thought things had gone so well. No one else noticed - or at least acknowledged that they'd noticed - her comment, and Charming said hello from the stove. Casey continued to glare at me angrily for some time.

I'd never felt so out of place in my own home. It was as if they lived there, and I was intruding on their space. Defeated, I retreated to the solice of my bedroom to change, which I did slowly, stalling on heading back downstairs. So much for my glass of wine and relaxing evening.