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My neurologist called yesterday to say that he ordered the CAT scan because my fifth vertebra “didn’t look right” on the MRI. It looked no better on the CAT scan, and he thinks I could have cancer. Since cancer rarely originates in that location, it would probably have metastasized from someplace else—my prostate, he speculated. He said he had spoken with my internist, and that I should expect a call from him. This is my second cancer scare this year--I had a lymph node biopsy in February.
Peggy got in late yesterday and left early today (she works three, ten hour shifts each week), so I didn’t give her the news because she wouldn’t have slept. She had called me from work to ask if I had heard from the neurologist, and I could truthfully tell her at that time that I had not. My thought is still that I could accept such news for my sake, but I don’t know how I could accept it for hers.
24 Hours of Christmas
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I did a Christmas marathon! I somehow got everything together at home,
with the cats, and all my other responsibilities, to leave by noon and head
south...
3 comments:
I do hope the news is better than you expect. I'm glad you posted the poem, and yes feel free to send me any you like, I'm always open to prose, poetry lifts me considerably.
Lifted from anything in particular?
From my rotten pain for the most part, though also from the doom and gloom that has been our unfortunate weather this past year. It's felt like a permanent eclipse mingled with heavy rain and wind, outrageous to have no summer!
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