We Are in This Together

“I’ll be right here next to you,” my husband says and points to a chair at the head of the MRI machine.

This latest breast cancer scare is harder than the others. There was the mammogram, the biopsy, the meeting with the cancer specialist, the meeting with the surgeon, ultrasounds and now an MRI.

Jean-Claude goes to every doctor appointment with me, even when that means he misses work. My anxiety disorder causes my heart rate to shoot up way past 100 beats per minute every time we enter a doctor’s office. My husband’s presence is not only welcome; it is necessary. He is the only one who can reassure me.

After I am out of the MRI, Jean-Claude tells me, “I didn’t move while you were in there. Since they told you to hold perfectly still, I wanted to hold still in support of you.”

“Thank you,” I say.