A Measure Of Faith

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9780373830725: A Measure Of Faith

Devastated by the news that she has fibroid tumors that could be cancerous, interior designer Lynette Montgomery is further upset when the diagnosis strains her relationship with her long-time husband, Robert. Reprint.

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Excerpt. Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.:

The sound of wheels screaming filled Lynnette Montgomery's ears. She stomped her foot on her brake as hard as she could, but it was too late. There was a loud crash. The truck seemed to have come out of nowhere.

As her silver 2000 Land Rover came to a screeching halt, Lynnette eyed the two young boys in the old pickup truck who had just smashed into her. The driver looked at her and pounded his fists on the steering wheel. He seemed to be muttering something, but she couldn't make out the words. The expression on his face caused her to swell with anger. Who does this little weasel think he is? She nearly fell down trying to get her petite frame out of her vehicle. She intended to give him a piece of her mind.

As Lynnette approached the boys, they got out of the truck. She walked up to the one who had been driving and lit into him like a firecracker. "Don't be looking like you're mad at me! You hit me!"

The boy didn't say anything. The other one asked her, "Are you all right?"

Lynnette snapped, "I'm fine, but look at my car!" She pointed to the long scratched-up dent on the driver's side that went from the front all the way to the back.

The young driver finally spoke. "I'm sorry. I didn't see you." "Didn't see me!" Lynnette snapped again. "What are you? Blind?"

At that moment, a police car pulled up and stopped. The officer exited his vehicle and walked over to them. After he obtained both versions of what had transpired, he wrote down Lynnette and the other driver's license and automobile insurance information. Lynnette was even more outraged to learn that she and the teenager were both being charged for failure to yield the right of way. Even though he hit her, she had gotten in her turning lane too soon.

"What am I supposed to do about getting my car fixed?" she asked the officer.

He politely replied, "You'll need to contact your insurance company. The accident report should be ready in two to three days."

As Lynnette grabbed the citation from the officer's hand, she couldn't help but feel that life wasn't fair. I get hit by another car while I'm in my turning lane minding my own business, and I'm at fault? This is a bunch of baloney!

As she climbed back into the Land Rover, Lynnette's thoughts drifted to how she'd snapped at the teenagers. She overreacted too quickly and felt bad about being so harsh to them. How could I have talked to them like that? If someone had talked to her seventeen-year-old son, Joshua, or her sixteen-year-old daughter, Miranda, in that manner, she would

Since her reaction was one not typical of her, she reasoned that it had to be hormonal. Having recently left her doctor's office, she had been given some of the most devastating news of her entire life. She was stressed to the limit. She winced at the pain she felt in her abdomen.

It was an unusually warm day for the middle of January; however, this was typical of the south. Today, it felt like spring. The sun was shining radiantly with the temperature close to seventy degrees. Who would have thought that just a couple of weeks ago the city had gotten its first snowstorm one week and an ice storm the following week? Despite the beautiful weather, Lynnette felt absolutely miserable. She'd had a rotten day.

With her fortieth birthday just two weeks away, she was already feeling blue. Now, to top it off, she'd been told that her life was over. At least, that's how she felt. And as if that wasn't enough, she'd had the accident on her way home. She felt like crawling under a rock, never to return.

It was five o'clock when Lynnette pulled into the empty space beside the family vehicle, a white Chevrolet Suburban, in the four-car garage of their three-story brick home. Her husband, Robert, wasn't home yet as his company truck was not in the garage, but the kids were home. Miranda's compact-size car was in the garage, and Joshua's pickup was in the driveway.

Lynnette needed desperately to talk to Robert. She turned off the ignition, but her feet wouldn't allow her to leave the vehicle. Suddenly her arms encircled the steering wheel and in the next instance, she was bawling uncontrollably. Her mind began to digress back to her visit at the doctor's office when he delivered the news to her.

Dr. Mandell looked at her apprehensively as he spoke. "You mentioned that you've been having some pain in your abdomen. During your examination, I found fibroid tumors on your uterus."

She was bewildered. "What are fibroid tumors?"

The doctor explained, "Uterine fibroids are growths that develop from the cells that make up the muscle of the uterus. They're also called leiomyomas or myomas."

She shook her head, wondering, leio myo who?

Dr. Mandell continued, "Fibroids can be treated by removing them with surgery either through a myomectomy, which is removing the fibroids and leaving the uterus in place or a hysterectomy in which the uterus is removed."

Her head started to throb as her brain attempted to absorb all he was telling her. "If I just have the fibroids removed, is there a possibility they may grow back?"

The doctor advised her, "Yes, they may develop again even after the procedure. If they do, more surgery is needed in twenty to forty percent of cases."

Lynnette was so emotionally distressed she didn't even hear Robert's truck when he pulled into the space beside her. She heard someone tapping on her window. Startled, she looked up and saw Robert leaning down. She quickly wiped her face with her hands, grabbed her purse, and forced herself to climb out of the vehicle.

At forty-five, Robert Montgomery didn't look a day over thirty. He had short jet-black hair with just a hint of gray and long, gorgeous eyelashes for which any female would die. He sported a neatly trimmed moustache that Lynnette found very attractive.

Glancing at the dent on the car and then back at Lynnette, Robert asked, "Honey, are you okay? What happened?"

Lynnette tried to keep the tears from flowing again. She wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face in his chest, her tears soaking his shirt. Robert put his arms around her and held her tight.

She attempted to explain. "Dr. Mandell..." She couldn't finish.

"What is it?" Robert asked consolingly as he rubbed his hand up and down her back. "Did the doctor give you some bad news?"

Lynnette endeavored to get the words out a second time. "Dr. Mandell..."

She was scaring Robert. "What is it? Is it that bad?" "I may need sur-ge-ry-ry-ry-ry-ry," she wailed. Robert didn't understand. "Surgery? What kind of surgery? Are you all right? What's wrong?" He realized he was hurling too many questions at her all at once, but he needed some answers.

Lynnette clung to him tighter. "Dr. Mandell said I have fibroids on my uterus," she said, sniffling.

Robert had never heard the term before. "What are fibroids?" "Tumors. They're probably what's causing the pain in my abdomen. He recommended that I get tested to rule out other causes. He said I may need to have a hysterectomy."

"These tumors—are they cancerous?" Robert wanted to know.

"We hope not. But in very rare cases, they can become can Lynnette cried.

"Calm down," he said gently. "Didn't you say all he told you is that you may need the surgery?"

"Yes," Lynnette answered through her tears.

"So you don't know for certain. When do you have to go back to see him?" "In a month."

"It'll be okay," Robert assured her. "Even if you do have to have the surgery, people have operations all the time."

Lynnette leaned back and stared at her husband. She repeated, "People have operations all the time. Is that all you have to say? Why is this happening to me?"

"Honey, calm down," he kindly reminded her. "At least you don't have some dreaded disease."

Lynnette pushed Robert's hands away from her. "Don't tell me to calm down." She'd had an awful day. What she needed was sympathy and understanding. She was disappointed in his response because he seemed to downplay her news.

"I come home from a horrific day, and you're acting like it's no big deal. And look at my car!" She turned and pointed.

"On top of my life practically being over, I got hit on the way home by a couple of careless kids. And the police say it was my fault, too, because I got in my turning lane too soon. Have you ever heard such nonsense?"

Robert looked at the Land Rover, then back at Lynnette. "I'm sorry you had a bad day. As for the car, we'll get it fixed."

"Get it fixed!" Lynnette ranted. "Is that all you're worried about? Never mind whether or not I got hurt."

Robert put both hands on her waist. "Didn't I just ask you a minute ago if you're okay? Besides, I don't see any scrapes, scratches, or bruises."

That's it! Lynnette shoved Robert's hands off her once more and headed inside. "Never mind. I should've known you'd respond this way. Nothing is ever a big deal to you!"

"Lynn!" Robert called after her. "Wait a minute!" But she was already gone. Well, he thought, I may as well go in and face more of the wrath of Lynn. He knew it was coming.

Robert grabbed his lunch box out of the truck and went through the kitchen door following in Lynnette's path. Joshua and Miranda were setting the table for supper.

Robert put his lunch box on the kitchen counter. "Hi, kids. How was your day?"

Miranda looked up and smiled as she placed silverware on the table. "Hey, Daddy."

Joshua put a plate on the table. "Hi, Dad," he said, grinning. "I had a great day," Miranda said, beaming. "How was yours?"

"Okay," Robert answered. "Pretty busy," he added. He patted his son on the back. "Josh, what about you? How'd you do on that history exam?"

"Pretty good. I got an A." Joshua answered.

"That's great, son." The two males of the family held their hands up as Robert exclaimed, "High five!" and...

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