Upper Hand

While lying in bed one morning, The Responsible One noticed something most of us only want to find in the form of sugar and in our tea. She went to the doctor and it was confirmed – she had breast cancer. Four lumps in her right breast.

 

As she and I discussed her situation, we decided to find ways to look on the (b)right side of things. She was definitely going to need surgery; however, in the meantime, which seemed like forever, she had to continue to go to work. In a sense, she really had the upper hand. If anyone thought about giving her a new assignment or decided to question her on a current assignment, she could play the ‘cancer girl’ card. In meetings (or any interactions, really), when people were bothering her, she could preface her comments with, “I’ve got to get something off my chest.”

 

Like most daughters who speak with their mother, she told her mother about the lumps and how she discovered them. “Can I feel them?” her mother asked.  The Responsible One maintained the upper hand and respectfully declined her mother’s request to touch her upper with her hand. I’m guessing the respectful declination went a little like this, “Look, I’ve got to get something off my chest, as quickly as possible – your hand and these lumps.”

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