Get on Board…
She came to me in a different parish, in a different time. It transpired that her mortality was beginning to pinch. Things were not quite the same as they were when she was 27 and a half. There was a doctor's appointment, a referral, a test and the first wisps of fear snuck into the conversation.
We discussed the options. She could do nothing. Simply walk away from the medicine train that was waiting patiently for her at the station. Or, she could get on board and see where the train took her. The confronting part was that she did not know her first station. There was no question about her final stop where the train terminated, but the platforms in between were downright terrifying just because they were unknown.
And who to tell. Who could keep confidences and how would young nephew *Billy (*not his real name) react? It was a bubbly, complex cake mix that could very easily turn out icky and toxic.
We talked through the options but ultimately there seemed only one thing for it.
To stride towards the train, leave the cumbersome baggage of fear and the unknown on the platform, and entrust the ride to those who had sacrificed their youth on the altar of medical school and internship.
It transpired that the ride was not quite as bumpy as feared, at least not this time, but having ridden this train once, the next time, and there would inevitably be a next time, it would not seem quite as ferocious.
My thinking is that many people, every day, get on this medicine train for the first time. I applaud your courage! Ask the staff lots of questions. Leave your surplus baggage on the platform where it belongs. Just get on board. You are not alone.