Caught Off Guard

Ah, and I thought I was so prepared. That’s the trouble with mental rehearsal of troubles. They catch on to your head and then and sneak up from another direction.

Yesterday was oncology check up day. Four month interval with blood tests, looking for the tumor marker and the “Can you open your pants for me?” the belly exam that I so love to tease John about. It does seem that the most attractive PA’s and nurses ask, “Can I see your scars?” and he obliges like they were his etchings.

It was all good, Blood work OK and tummy-tapping just fine. But me: not!

I was a crazy woman all day. Grumbling about minor infractions and feared big events. My scared-girl head took me on a day long roller-coaster of “he doesn’t love me” and “they (any “they” will do) will upset the apple cart of our good life.” Just a day of fearful scenarios that ended—I’m ashamed to say with me saying nasty things and finally sobbing.

Oh duh, cancer got me again.

I guess all’s well that ends well and our day ended with left over pasta, a Yankee win and an early bedtime.

Progress not perfection.

Sights & Smells

We went back to the Oncology Center yesterday for John’s check-up and quarterly tests. So far so good. Basic blood work was OK. But we now wait a few days for the “cancer marker”. What struck me yesterday was the sensory recall we each had at the chemo center. I could feel and taste the rooms and I could feel my body contract and prepare as I did every week we went there. The waiting and eating and waiting and watching. But I was surprised when John said, “I have to get out of here before the smell kills me”. He could smell the old smells. I smelled nothing but he had recall and recognition of the smell of the place—and the smell brought back all of his bad feelings about those months of chemo.

Oncology Day

I have been grumpy for the last week. Grumpy to the point where I knew it was me and not him. Fussing at every little thing. Making any little thing into a big thing. Then I turned the page of the calendar: February. And there it was. The four month check up with John’s oncologist. Blood work and the tests.

It’s fear. It gets better each time but does not go away. I imagine the worst. Imagine what they will say, what he will say and what I will do. I imagine the hospital again and chemo again, and I think about the stats. The terrible statistics for colon cancer.

I remind myself feelings are not facts. I remind myself he is in God’s hands. I remind myself that I am in God’s hands too. And then I start to outline a very specific course of action for God.

Oh well, this is the day. We’ll go to the doctor. The good news is that this day puts work, hair, jobs, people and all other issues in perfect perspective.