Tomorrow

Bright and early tomorrow, we head into Dana-Farber for the quarterly visit. This one entails blood work and CT, along with the visit, which means a few things.


For starters, it means I get to drink lots of fruity contrast agent but nothing else tomorrow morning until the scans are done. (I'm hoping to have at least 15 minutes between last scan and appt to stop at the dining pavilion for coffee!) 

But more importantly, it means that I'll find out how things have progressed since last scan. Three months ago, my blood work looked great and I still feel great. But still...


This visit is also the time when we might begin to talk about a treatment plan. If you were watching me write this, you'd see a large pause after that sentence -- something no amount of punctuation could convey. If you want to know the truth (to quote Holden Caulfield), I'm not sure how I feel about that. In a weird way, the idea of treatment -- of action, of moving from watch and wait to attack, of doing something -- is somewhat reassuring. But along with a treatment plan comes the logistics of scheduling a plan -- even if it's not an intense plan, and by everything I've been told, this wouldn't be intense. It could also mean replacing what is today purely mental side effects with physical side effects 

None of that is trivial, but it pales in comparison with the real complication. Namely, it means I have to fully recognize that I have cancer. It's something I've been gradually accepting over the last year, and particularly over these last three months. Blogging has helped with that, to the point that while I hope we remain in watch and wait mode, if it is time to talk about a treatment plan, I'm about as ready as I'll ever be.


-michael