When my older kids got home from school yesterday, I told them about the mammogram I had on Thursday, about the subsequent call Friday telling me I needed further tests, and about my second round of scans on Tuesday morning.
“But I don’t have breast cancer,” I said. “Everything is fine.”
“Why didn’t you tell us on Friday about the phone call?” my son asked.
“I didn’t want you to worry all weekend.”
“I wouldn’t have worried,” Cole replied.
I was skeptical. “If you thought there was a chance I had breast cancer but wouldn’t know the full results for three days, that wouldn’t make you worry?”
“No,” he said. “If anyone can fight breast cancer, it’s you. You would be like take that stupid breast cancer, pow, pow, pow.”
And just knowing Cole thinks that about me reminds me how much I love him. Out of all the boys in the world, I have the best one.