Tuesday, 18 October 2011
HAPPY DANCE AND FLOOR FILL IN THE STUDIO
Last day in the hospital, one of the surgeons who removed the alien from my brain mentions that a CAT scan, with the exception of the tumor in my lung, looked clean. This, he tells me, would be a good thing. It would mean they've caught the disease early - in spite of the rapid travel time from lung to brain. This is where the glass is half full.
The holes in the glass part comes in when he tells me that a PET scan will be the final test of that and might turn up something the other tests haven't.
Yesterday, I see the thoracic surgeon - a cheerful, upbeat kind of guy. When I mention that I'm anxious about the scan results, he rifles through the paper on his clipboard and says, "The tumor in your lung looks pretty hot but...he scans the sheet again...nothing else. Nope. Nothing." He says I'll only see him again if the chemo doesn't finish off the tumor...or if it shrinks and then begins to grow again. When I leave, I flash him a big smile. "Thanks," I tell him, "I hope I don't have to see you again." And Ilga, Jan and I head out to a pancake house to celebrate.
I begin today by continuing a pattern of procrastination that set in a few days ago. Sunday, I am supposed to clean the studio. Detta is coming to help. But Sean arrives first for a visit and we are all having far too much fun visiting to actually do any work. Yesterday, the day I get the good news, I vault into full attention deficit mode. I make a big mess in the studio, dumping the contents of storage drawers onto the floor...and then dessert it there, coming in once in a while to stare at it and urge myself to do something. Then I go on Facebook.
I order leggings online. I watch "Boardwalk Empire." I sort all the information sheets from The Big Book of Cancer Handouts into an accordian file.
Subsequently, today is laundry-cleaning-sign-the-will-grocery-shopping-pick-up-prescriptions. And today I will have to haul my procrastinating ass into line because my little sister arrives on Friday and it would nice if there was food in the fridge - and a space on the studio floor to put the air mattress. And tomorrow, chemo starts - so I suspect that all those chores are going to look insurmountable. So, with that in mind - I sit down to tell you all this. Instead.
Anyone want to volunteer to live in and be in charge of kicking me into action?