Had my doctor check out a "blump" on my shin last week. And she didn't know what it was. Said to wait a few weeks and call her back if it is still there. She'll send me to an orthopedist if it's still there.

The comments that make me hold my breath: "It won't hurt to wait a few weeks." and "I don't know if he'll want to take it out or not."

I don't need much help contemplating my mortality, but this has helped. So, I'm worrying. Wondering how my kids will take the news that I'm dying, etc. Or how I'll take having to deliver the news. etc.

I know, I know, could be all kinds of other things. But the point for the moment isn't really what the blump is, but that there is this barely subterranean vein of fear. So I'm trying to pay attention to it and trying to pay attention to the life that is passing by every time I stop to worry. In a way, I'm trying to worry about what I'll be missing if I spend my time worrying. Doesn't stop the worry, but it seems to keep me open to the tender and beautiful moments that are happening regardless of whether it is nothing or something.