Take Your Time
I am lucky. I have a wife who takes copious notes at every doctor appointment and then goes home and does research.
Sometimes we can talk about things. Sometimes, we can't. It is just too hard. So, she finds music to say what she can't and leaves it for me to find. I listen and smile.
My doctor's appointment yesterday was really, really difficult for both of us. We had the notebook. This is filled with all of our questions. Most went unanswered, under the topic of we must wait and see.
I get it. She gets it. The oncologist can't make any promises and is reluctant to say what things look like, only what tests can be done to see more, to make our decisions easier.
This all involves a great deal of waiting and seeing. My cat scan, MRIs are not scheduled until next week. Until then, I am getting loaded up daily with Vitamin B-12 shots with the hope that this might help stabilize my blood counts.
The nurses are all incredibly kind. The oncologist pats my arm as she walks out.
"I know this sounds crazy, but try not to worry. Let's just take this one step at a time. Hold on."
One problem, doc. My fingers are numb from holding on to this ledge. I don't know how long I can hold on.
Instead, T and I sort of shut down. We try to think of other things. She tends to the yard. I watch. We talk of interesting signs.
I tell her that I think I saw Willie Nelson in the elevator going to the oncologist's office. She smiles. Says that she can't believe she missed Willie.
It wasn't Willie, of course. It was his lookalike. I was waiting for the elevator and a volunteer came up with a man who could have been his brother. He was a slight, skinny man with gray hair in a long ponytail down his back. His jeans hung off of him precariously. The volunteer put him in the elevator and pressed the button for the main floor.
"Just get off and there will be someone to help you with your stick," she said. She looked a tiny bit offended, as if he carried an odor or something. I smiled at him. He smiled back, nervous.
"How're you doin', young lady? And who took your hair? Bet it was purty," he said.
I told him that chemo had went and done stole it off of me. I asked him how he was. I love it that he was honest.
"Well, I'm feeling scared and skittery, I guess," he admitted. He said he was going in for blood tests and did not relish them. I smiled at him.
"I'm scared and skittery, too," I told him. "But, we'll get through as best we can, yes?"
He nodded as the doors opened to his floor. Right before he got off, he unexpectedly hugged me.
"I hope you come out okay," he said. He was gone before I could answer him.
As I told T about this, I said that I thought I would choose to believe it was Willie....or his cousin. She said that she was sure that I was right.
I feel as if signs come at me from all directions.
"What we need is something for you to shoot for," T says. "Another goal, like staying alive for the finale of Game of Thrones."
The phone rings. It is Kimberley, C's fiancée. She tells us that they've decided to wed here on the prairie, instead of her native Texas.
They want to be sure that I will not have to travel, that I can be there. A new goal is now in place. It is far in the future, nearly a year away, but it is my new goal.
Funny, how things just keep happening. Signs. People. Strength flying at me from unexpected sources.
I listened to the song that T left for me. Afterwards, she hugged me.
"Take your time," she said.
I pick up the sword again.
Sure thing.
Sometimes we can talk about things. Sometimes, we can't. It is just too hard. So, she finds music to say what she can't and leaves it for me to find. I listen and smile.
My doctor's appointment yesterday was really, really difficult for both of us. We had the notebook. This is filled with all of our questions. Most went unanswered, under the topic of we must wait and see.
I get it. She gets it. The oncologist can't make any promises and is reluctant to say what things look like, only what tests can be done to see more, to make our decisions easier.
This all involves a great deal of waiting and seeing. My cat scan, MRIs are not scheduled until next week. Until then, I am getting loaded up daily with Vitamin B-12 shots with the hope that this might help stabilize my blood counts.
The nurses are all incredibly kind. The oncologist pats my arm as she walks out.
"I know this sounds crazy, but try not to worry. Let's just take this one step at a time. Hold on."
One problem, doc. My fingers are numb from holding on to this ledge. I don't know how long I can hold on.
Instead, T and I sort of shut down. We try to think of other things. She tends to the yard. I watch. We talk of interesting signs.
I tell her that I think I saw Willie Nelson in the elevator going to the oncologist's office. She smiles. Says that she can't believe she missed Willie.
It wasn't Willie, of course. It was his lookalike. I was waiting for the elevator and a volunteer came up with a man who could have been his brother. He was a slight, skinny man with gray hair in a long ponytail down his back. His jeans hung off of him precariously. The volunteer put him in the elevator and pressed the button for the main floor.
"Just get off and there will be someone to help you with your stick," she said. She looked a tiny bit offended, as if he carried an odor or something. I smiled at him. He smiled back, nervous.
"How're you doin', young lady? And who took your hair? Bet it was purty," he said.
I told him that chemo had went and done stole it off of me. I asked him how he was. I love it that he was honest.
"Well, I'm feeling scared and skittery, I guess," he admitted. He said he was going in for blood tests and did not relish them. I smiled at him.
"I'm scared and skittery, too," I told him. "But, we'll get through as best we can, yes?"
He nodded as the doors opened to his floor. Right before he got off, he unexpectedly hugged me.
"I hope you come out okay," he said. He was gone before I could answer him.
As I told T about this, I said that I thought I would choose to believe it was Willie....or his cousin. She said that she was sure that I was right.
I feel as if signs come at me from all directions.
"What we need is something for you to shoot for," T says. "Another goal, like staying alive for the finale of Game of Thrones."
The phone rings. It is Kimberley, C's fiancée. She tells us that they've decided to wed here on the prairie, instead of her native Texas.
They want to be sure that I will not have to travel, that I can be there. A new goal is now in place. It is far in the future, nearly a year away, but it is my new goal.
Funny, how things just keep happening. Signs. People. Strength flying at me from unexpected sources.
I listened to the song that T left for me. Afterwards, she hugged me.
"Take your time," she said.
I pick up the sword again.
Sure thing.
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