Saturday, February 21, 2009

It's Not Pass Or Fail

It's been a week since my last PET scan. (No, I didn't take my dogs to the vet). I had some stuff shot into my body, sat in a dimly lit room for 45 minutes and went in and out of a tube for another 30 minutes. The nasty, I-feel-like-the alien-will-shoot-out-of-my-forehead-headache, shakes and churning stomach were also a treat.

This was a body test, to see if the cancer is hiding or just dead. A cancer test. You can't study for this one.

Because my Doctor wanted me to get in sooner than later––there was an area "of concern, but probably scar tissue" just above where the tumor was from the head & neck cancer––I went in on a Friday. And being that it was President's Day on Monday, I would have to wait three days for my results instead of knowing in 24 hours. Now that's what I call planning.

Remember what it was like when you took that really hard test. "I nailed it. Except for that essay question. That was total B.S., but my best B.S." Yeah, no bullshitting through this. I'm being scanned. They're looking into MY BODY. I'm giving answers that I really don't control. Or do I? And just like when you were waiting for that grade back, that stamp of where you stand in your class, you go over things in your head. Over and over. And over a few hundred times after that. Just gimme the damn paper back so I can get my grade!

It was 9:34 am on Tuesday and I couldn't wait any more. I called the Doctor's office. I got the answering machine. Answering machine? It's 9:35 am, where the hell is everybody! I need some news, one way or another or I don't think I can work. My mind is all over the place. C'mon! I calmly leave my name and cell number. I put my phone back in my pocket. I get out of my office to walk the floors, get my mind right. Maybe I'll go for a cup of coffee. Shit, if I have more coffee, I'll start talking to the statues. When are they going to tell me? 

I keep my phone on vibrate, because I'm either in a meeting or someone is asking me something. I'm never lonely at work :) For some reason I reach in my pocket to check my phone, thinking if I should call them again. I see I missed a call. (I guess I need tighter pants). I stare at the number which seems familiar but not totally recognizable. Oh shit, it's them. They called back. And I ready?

"Hey Greg, it's Denise. It's about 10:35 on Tuesday and I notice you weren't supposed to have your PET scan until 2/18, but you already had it. I normally wouldn't leave this message except" oh no. Oh no. Oh no. "your PET scan is great, showing no tumors or" and that was all I heard before I broke down. Tears of fear, uncertainty, joy and relief came pouring out. I had to tell Teresa. I had to tell anyone. I passed.

 The test, that is. 

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