Snow. It was, for Cincinnati, not normally this snowy. But, during the past few years, the snow was consistently blanketing our region with several inches on many occasions. It meant that I would need to trudge through the stuff to clean off my RAV-4 and decide if I would head home or go to work which was just across the street from my motel.
Ok. Since it was Greg's 61st Birthday today and I was in a state of shock already, I decided to drive back home to Price Hill. According to the traffic websites and the TV broadcasters, the rush hour traffic should have declined by then since it was mid-morning. Wrong. I was in a brain fog and unthinkingly I got on the interstate. But the ramp to I-75 south was clogged and I looked over at the interstate and saw that the traffic was bumper-to-bumper and barely moving.
It's too late to change my mind. I was mired in 5 mph traffic and the pavement looked like a sheet of ice. I crawled south and it took 45 minutes to drive about 5 miles. Suddenly, the traffic opened up and the road was no longer icy and we drove along at 35 mph for the rest of the way home. How blessed it felt to make it home safely! I wondered if I would even make it that day.
During my conversation with Dianne Runk the previous evening when I got the invasive lobular cancer news, we had scheduled a time to talk for later in the afternoon.
Greg and I met our dear friend, Joules, at Dianne Runk's office and we banded together. I think we all felt we could defeat the cancer sheerly by strength in numbers. So Dianne Runk led us back to her office and we sat around a table plotting the attack. She drew out the battle plan and the options. The next step was to schedule an MRI of both breasts to see if there was cancer in the left breast as well as how big the tumor was in the right breast.
And this all happened on Greg's birthday.
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