Michael took my hand.
“And tomorrow?”
I looked toward the hospital window.
“Tomorrow, I find out what is happening to my body. The rest can wait.”
For the first time in my life, I understood that forgiveness did not mean pretending nothing had happened.
It meant allowing myself to acknowledge the truth without letting it destroy everything I had loved.
The following morning, the surgical team reviewed the plan with me again.
My heart function, blood pressure, and other preoperative assessments had been reviewed. The anesthesiologist explained the risks associated with surgery at my age, including bleeding, infection, blood clots, and complications involving the heart or lungs.
They also explained the risks of leaving a mass of this size untreated.
I listened carefully.
I asked questions.
And when I did not understand an answer, I asked the doctor to explain it again.
No one rushed me.
No one treated my age as a reason to dismiss my concerns.
