Yesterday in the office, I laughed.
I have learnt in life that those worst times of grief, when it feels like happiness will never come again, are so misleading. Although it doesn’t seem possible at the time, the shadows do lift and suddenly, sometimes when you least expect it, you hear the sound of laugher and realise it belongs to you.
That happened to me yesterday.
I guess I have been quiet these last couple of weeks and have kept myself shut away in my office, using work as a distraction. It’s not been so bad at home as the family give me much-needed energy. Especially when my daughter got better grades in her A-levels than we were expecting. We’re all incredibly proud of her.
But yesterday, Pete, one of the young guys at work was relating a terrible dating experience he’d had the night before and suddenly I realised I was giggling and as the story went on, I had pretty much collapsed with the others into a heap of convulsive laughter. It was good for me and I needed that – it was such a release.
Just ten minutes later though, I got a call from the hospital.
They want me to go in as soon as possible to discuss the results of my Colposcopy with the consultant. I asked for more details but the secretary said she wasn’t qualified to give me that information and that it would be best to wait to speak to the doctors.
It’s been a month since I had that test and I stupidly assumed that as I hadn’t heard anything that it was all OK. To be honest, what with Maria’s death and then the funeral, I had pretty much forgotten all about it. That phone call has put a stop to that though as now, I can’t think of anything else. I have to go in on Monday morning. I’m trying to be calm and rational but it’s proving difficult.
I guess the gods weren’t ready for me to start laughing just yet.
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