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Game Delay: The Big C reduced to a benign Milk Dud.

April 20, 2012

In life they talk about the inevitably of death. Well, I got a game delay yesterday. I was given a Cat Scan and they slid my on a tray like a pizza into an open oven. The voice inside the speaker within the tube said hold your breath. The machine hummed and spun and slid me along as it took an image of me. My tears were just flowing. This is to live or die. WIll they find other cancer? Will it have spread? When I spoke the the assistant she said, “I didn’t know how much people suffered until my cat had lymphoma, then I thought of my God!”

As I’m laying on the slab there is a silver object above me that resembles a cross between a ray gun and a syringe, attached to it is some tubing with is plugged into the medical port above my chest. It will inject dye into my body for contrast on the image.

“When you get the dye you will feel a warmth, you might get a little dizzy, and there will be a sensation that you feel like your wetting your pants,” said the nurse.

After the scan, the nurse detcahced me and said, “Did you feel like you were wetting your pants when the dye went in.”

“Yes, actually I was disappointed I wasn’t really urinating,” I replied, getting a laugh,

I get blood drawn to find out more about the rest of me. Then I go down to see Dr. Sri Lanka at the Stanford Cancer Center.

“I have good news for you,” the doctor says. “Your tumor has gone from 22 centimeters down to 3. It’s probably dead tissue or benign.”

I just bowed my head. I guess people expect you to be jubilant. But being sick for five months. Suffering and watching others suffer worse in the hospital and being stuck and imaged and watching fluids being slowly dripped grinned through a tube into my body for six hours, five days a week, I was just stunned and relieved and drained and humbled by the illusion of my own flesh. I felt like wet ashes in an ash tray, tamped out.

I said, “Can is see it?”

“Your red blood cell count is low and we want to give you a blood transfusion so that you’ll be strong enough for the operation which will be in about three week when you finally get over all the chemo and your strong.” said Dr. Sri Lanka.

During this time I’ve never been satisfied with Dr. Sri Lanka’s bedside manner and the way she handled my case sometimes. Her treatment was correct but I had to fight to help relieve my pain. I said to her, “You know, I jsut want to say something. I would have appreciated just once getting a call.”

“About your condition?”

“No, just a call at home or you coming up one floor to the infusion ward. I’m not saying you didn’t care about me. But if you did just ask how I was feeling, it would have showed your cared. And when a doctor shows they care, it makes the patient feel better. I’ll get off on a tangent. Tip o’Neil was the speaker of the house years ago, but when he first ran for office, am woman in his neighborhood came over to him and said, ‘YOu never came to see me but I voted for you anyway.” He was surprised said replied. ‘But you’ve known me my whole life.’ She replied, ‘People like to be asked.’ It’s kinda like that, we want someone to ask how we are.”

Her eyes lit up and I suddenly saw a brightness and the woman she was behind the degree and she smiled.

And so I wake up today. Still in shock, feeling like I spit out a hook. It’s been such a long journey. Thinking I’ll go down to the beach and open my body out to the sun. The sun offers light not criticism.

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