When I saw that lump the other day, I had to ask myself if this was really happening. Sure, it's happening. (Surhappening) Can this really be true? (Surtrue). Are you sure? (Sursure)
This is truly a surreal experience. A part of me thinks I may wake up any moment and find that it was just a bad and strange dream. The problem is that I did just wake up (it is currently 1 AM) and my dream was way different- something about being able to fly with just a simple push off the ground. No, this is not a dream. No waking up from it. I have to go to sleep to get away from it.
The day after was a strange day. Everything seems so normal. I woke up like normal. I got up like normal. I was denied my tea. That is not normal. No food or water for four hours before my CT scan. When I made the appointment I heard that this thing would take four hours to complete. That's a long time to lay in one place. Perhaps I could take a nap. That wouldn't be so bad. I can do it.
I had rescheduled my day and cleared the calendar so I would be able to get this whole thing done. The appointment was at 8:40 in the AM. I would be done by 12:40. The night before I was complaining to Jennifer that it was a bummer that I'd be stuck laying in one spot for four hours. That must be why I needed to fast and refrain from liquids. I mean, you can't just stop the machine and take a potty break.
I threatened to the family that I wouldn't use the restroom before I went just to teach those people down at the clinic a lesson. It would be my revenge. I don't know who would get the lesson nor who would be revenged. Still... lessons would be learned.
I paced around the family room and kitchen before leaving for the appointment. I complained to Jennifer about being stuck on my back for four hours. I wanted something to drink and eat. Then I went to the restroom. No lessons were going to be exacted upon the clinic staff. So much for revenge.
And those people are cruel. I showed up to check in. My empty stomach, bowls, and bladder all wanted a refilling. Right there where you check in is a bowl. It is a mocking bowl. It is a bowl of cruelty. It is a bowl full of chocolate hearts. I love chocolate hearts. I impulsively reached for one. It wasn't until my fingers felt that foil that encases those yummy treats that I remembered my fast. I saw it in her eyes, the one checking me in- "Gotcha!"
Well, maybe she didn't. She actually just had a few check-in questions. She wasn't all that bad.
I had to wait for a bit. I got there early. I played Harbor Master on my iPhone. Still haven't hit 500 points.
They called me back and took me to a little changing room. Strip and put on the gown. "Leave your socks on, honey- it's cold in there." So with socks and gown I went into my appointment with the machine. Four hours. I can do it.
Once I was laid down and hooked up to an IV, she said, "Okay. This will take about ten minutes and you can be off."
What! Ten minutes? What happened to four hours? I learned something. My brain doesn't work very well the day I'm given tough news. I had been in a fog when I was making appointments. Numbers were said, times were stated, places were named, instructions were given, info was jumbled. Perhaps I heard everything wrong. Maybe the doctor didn't say, "You have cancer." Maybe he said, "You can, Sir, see your bladder."
Jennifer tells me to ask lots of questions. Ask ask ask. I don't know what good that'll do- I'll ask the questions and report back that it all had to do with a black cat in East Africa. It was a little embarrassing when it was all said and done that I was out of the appointment before 9:15. Jennifer, who was in for the long haul, asked a bit surprised, "What happened to four hours?" "I think I got it all confused."
By the way- On my way out I swung by that check in counter and grabbed two chocolate heats.
The rest of the day wasn't very pressing because I had cleared my calendar. This gave me time to think. Not deeply. Just think. I gave Harbor Master a go, but just once. No high score. I checked email. Nothing pressing. I tried to bid a job. I couldn't wrap my brain around it. I wasted time. I watched the video Carry On, by Fun., and then I just listened to it a couple of times. I found a transcript of Elizabeth Elliot's talk about do the next thing and read it. It wasn't the message I had originally heard, but it was still good nonetheless. (http://www.backtothebible.org/index.php/Gateway-to-Joy/Do-the-Next-Thing.html)
My brother, Kirk called. He told me to get up and go to work. It was good advice. It was what I said I would do earlier that morning. I got up and went to work. Service call. Checked on a job. Scheduled an appointment for a walkthrough the next day. Appeased a customer that had concerns about a security system. Called my contractor friend and told him that I couldn't wrap my brain around his job right now said I would be able to bid it that day. He understood and told me he would be praying for me.
I've been "in ministry" for a lot of years. I've always been the one who went and sat with or listened to someone else's tough news. It is weird to be on this side of the this kind of "prayer request". More than likely it's all going to be okay. Supposedly this is an easy cancer to treat. No nasty chemo or radiation, as far as I know right now. More than likely I'll be able to keep my bladder. But it's still a hard pill to swallow. It's all just so... well, surreal.
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