The doctor called, the biopsy report is benign, the cancer scare is officially over.  Not to beat the whole shoe reference to death, but there isn’t another big ole Stride Rite hanging over my head.  Or at least not one that I can see coming. I should have said "Manolo Blahnik" but I never watch "Sex and the City" and I don’t think I could recognize one; I am so not cool that way. 

I learned a lot about me and other people during the Cancer Scare; I will not go into it, because much of it is conjectural.  How one feels and acts when confronted by maybe-having-cancer is sort of instructive, but it probably isn’t proof of how one would feel and act when it’s the real thing.  Since I hate it when people not confronted by infertility and its losses give me counsel, or tell me they understand how I feel, I can’t venture to say that I know very much about really having cancer just by having a few scary medical reports and a biopsy that turned out fine.  Of course the whole thing was much better for me, body and soul, than a normal month, during which God usually lets me have almost everything I want and I barely appreciate it. 

But I’m so, so glad it’s over.