My scans went just fine today. Took longer than I expected. AND, of course, that damned MRI machine hacks out rhythms that I try to make songs and words along side of. It's so damned loud. The beeping and the banging and the wheezing.
When I went in, the tech was such a doll. Charles was his name. He was a chatty Cathy and we talked about "musicals" for some damned reason. I guess it was because he likes to hum and sing.
So, I laid in the machine with my headphones on ... to cover my ears from the screeching of the machine ... though it was still so loud.
Every beep that I heard, I prayed. I prayed for my friends that are not with me now, for friends that are battling cancer right now, and for myself to keep up hope and strength. Oh ... and I talked to my K-Dawg ... alot. Talked to my grandparents, alot.
You see ... tomorrow I could find out that I'm just perfect. Or, tomorrow, I could find out that I've gone metastatic. And, honestly, by the way the tech behaved after I got out of the machine, it wouldn't be surprised.
I know that they are the Poker Face Champs when it comes to "cancer news". But, it was a bit disconcerting seeing his behavior after he'd been like a dancer in "Chorus Line" prior to the scan. However, they are trained to play straight after people get scanned. So, I cannot bank too terribly much upon that.
Spoke with Dr. Fer tonight after 8:00. He's such a gem. He said, "Anna, what do think you need to worry about?" I said, "I don't know ... just having to do the scan makes me reflect and antsy." He said, "Whelp, I think you're gonna be okay."
And there it is. My savior. The man that has been with me since diagnosis that has studied every med and treatment that will save me ... the countless hours we've gone back and forth over meds that I think that I need to be on that might be a bit experimental. I can remember our debate of me going on Zometa. By the way ... he folded after I told him "you know you 'feel me up' every three weeks' ... you owe me this!"
He's a kind soul who blushes incessantly when I'm around. But, I trust his word.
So ... I'll wait. I trust in his confidence that this scan will come out clean.
Until then, I'll wait. But, I'll wait with a bit more peace, as I've been warmed by the words of a dear dear friend and mentor.
Thank you, my Turkish Teddy Bear!
xoxo
Anna
2 comments:
Oh! I can't imagine what you are going through, but hang tough girly! I'm sending postive healing vibes (and loads of kick ass vibes) to you and your family!
Thank you, my dear, dear girl. We've known each other from girly-hood. It means the world.
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