Now the wait

This morning I set off to be shoved into a dark, cold, wet tube, where......oh, wait, that was radiation treatment last year. Today’s big fun involved being shoved into a tube with trolls clanging on pipes into my ears very loudly. I went to my appointment only after the usual morning routine with The Kone; brain scan or no, some things are sacred.

Of course, once I get to the MRI emporium, I am treated as my triathlon goddess status requires. Or something. Maybe it’s the Fuck Cancer hat – based on how smiley everyone is when I wear it, I really think the FC hat has the power to bring people together and to shine a little light on this oftentimes bleak world of ours. Kumbaya.....

Anyway, as I’m hanging out in the waiting room, I figure I’ll see what magazines they have to read. Oh look, my favorites! “Gastroenterology and Hematology” and “Somatom Sessions” – multiple issues no less. I plan to catch up on some reading, but then I see the computer where it looks like the homepage is set to Northwestern Memorial or something. How silly. I sit down and am typing into the Set Home Page box “t..h..e..t..h..i..g..h..m..a..s..t....” when my name is called.

The nurse who takes me back to draw blood and such is very nice, but as she’s handing me the gown and socks to change into, she’s staring at my hat, which I’m still wearing because it’s always cold in these places.

Nurse Pat: Let’s see, what’s your hat say.......
Me, helpfully, since she’s still peering at it: Oh, it says Fuck Cancer!
NP: Oh boy, that’s not something I’ve ever seen on a hat before!

Hmm. I’m not quite sure how to take this. Is she with us or against us? After all, that kind of comment is akin to saying “Hey, now THAT’S a baby!!”

NP, continuing: I have to show that to the other nurse. Margaret! Margaret, come look at this hat!

Nurse Margaret comes over, studies the hat, and there’s silence for a moment while I wait for the verdict.

NM, finally, in solidarity: Yes. We should all wear those.
NP: Oh, that’s a great idea.
NM: We have a friend who’s going through it all, so that’s exactly our sentiment as well.

Whew! You really don’t want to irritate the people who’re about to shove you into a tube and zap you with neutrino particle beams, ya know?

So I go in the tube and listen to the banging trolls, which is supposed to take half an hour, and when I’m done, I see that there are now TWO nurses in the room instead of just the one that was there formerly. Hmm. Trying to gauge if they look concerned. Tough to say. Maybe the sheer complexity of a superior brain such as mine simply needs more than one person to study it properly. But why the heck did that take a lot longer than 30 minutes, I wonder. Hmm. Clearly paranoia has now set in, and I’m looking for clues anywhere. Are those tea leaves I see over there?

I go to check out and find out how long it’ll be before I get the results. After all, it’s been ten minutes, so shouldn’t they have something for me by now? (tapping fingers impatiently)

Checkout guy, cheerfully: Okay, so you should hear from your doctor with the results within 2-3 business days!
Me, glumly: Gee, that’s great. So basically I’ll know something by Christmas, right?
CG: Exactly!

Ho ho ho.......

(Note: I did call my oncologist yesterday to tell her I was having the MRI today, so I’m actually hoping that she’ll call me with the results before this 2-3 business day malarkey. Thinking I might call her again to remind her.....)