One breath at a time

Ellen and I have been taking life one breath at a time the last couple of days as I submit to an oncologic Easter egg hunt. I had my head examined by MRI on Tuesday, for which we’ve yet to receive results, and I’m scheduled for a PET/CT scan of the rest of my body tomorrow. Armed with diagnostic reports that will describe additional mets I may have, I convene Tuesday with a melanoma specialist at Providence Cancer Center in Portland. Together, we’ll develop a plan on how to proceed medically.

It’s depressing just to think about the inevitable indignities of this process. I felt like I was being interviewed by a 14-year-old on the phone this morning when asked about my medical history by the mobile PET/CT provider. She knew nothing about me and had no idea why the scan was being ordered. This does not bode well.

I spent part of yesterday getting things in order for my class last night and, thanks to the miracle of adrenaline, had an excellent time with my new media students. There was a moment of cognitive dissonance shortly after the class started when the thought flitted through my mind, “Everything’s OK. You can’t really be sick.” The students, of course, had no clue. For three hours I had a recess from the tyranny of fear.

Ellen is back at Acorn tonight supervising her ESL classes. That leaves me here alone, pondering, and seeking solace in mere words. There is a profound movement of something deep within my soul that I haven’t yet plumbed as the current storm rages around me. More exploration of that soon, I hope.