I don't know what "ok" is. Ok is only a thing in comparison to other things. Insurmountable or manageable. It's all about your perspective.
I got a bit of shocking news the last week or so. First I had a very small part of my skin cut and biopsied. Something new for me. New with finally having health insurance (and a doctor and ability to assauge your fears about how you're aging and finally feel like an adult and that certain complications that come with your age is ever closer "expiration" date to what is your body), except my fears weren't tempered or soothed, only flared.
I got a call this morning that it is "pre cancerous" — which I can only assume is the hors d'œuvre of the cancer meal. I've been attempting to convince myself that that is a good thing — and it is. That I'll be fine — and I will be. But yet ...
I feel those stitches in my back. And I feel them burn. And I feel them slowly seething into my skin. I imagine this small army of pain devouring whatever is around it and finding paths and avenues into places they're uninvited; ready to make mischief and havoc and damage and hurt. I feel my skin swelter in spots I imagine are slowly being broken down, eaten away and turned into the thing that I don't want to face. Cancer.
But I'm convincing myself it'll be ok. It'll be ok. Everything can always be worse. Maybe not comforting, but true. What's comforting is friends. My wife. My kids and their smiles. A sunny day. A good song. A fulfilling meal. A long nights sleep. Who knows how long ANY of us have in this life — healthy or not. Belaboring what isn't possible to change or foresee is pointless.
It'll be ok.