Saturday night, long after dark, Pete and I lay in bed. (don't worry, hang with me here...) He has the left side of the bed and I have the right. Nico, the 20 pound mini schnauzer usually takes up the foot of my side. Saturday night, everyone was in their spots, waiting for sleep. Nico's usually the only one who varies his spot or cuddles up against someone.
But I cuddled up to Pete. I put my hand on his back and lay next to him and felt him breathing. And we talked until we fell asleep. I call it the darkness talking. (again, don't worry, it's not that.) It's the deeply personal, tell me your fears and I'll tell you mine and we'll comfort each other kind of talking.
I asked him to keep the scar tissue in my right breast from the biopsy and tell me if he thought it was scar tissue or something else. It does feel long and cylindrical, like the needle inserted. But my fear has been that what I have in me is actually cancer and that this biopsy somehow awakened it. And I shared that with Pete. I shared that not a day goes by that I don'/t worry that I have cancer, not just the precancerous cells. Pete assured me that everything would be fine and that he was there with me every step of the way. He reminded me that if the doctors were concerned about it, they would have moved surgery up and not let me wait so long. It all makes sense when he says it.
So we lay there, my hand on his back, next to one another, with the dog at my feet, until we fell asleep.