I was in a pissy mood on Friday. I had good reason. But, it was a secret so I was completely blocked in the writing department.
I was waiting for mom to get a phone call. That scan, mom's scan.....if you were following along, was done the same day that I was called about my need for an additional test. My test is tomorrow. It's Pre-Biopsy Day for me.
Last Friday, it was, "On the Edge of My Seat Day." Mom's scan was okay. Except for an area they were NOT scanning. Her pancreas. She got a call from the oncologist late in the day on Thursday. "Nothing to be concerned about, they look like tiny cysts but I want a surgeon to have a look." Mom and I have this mutual "let's hide any bad news until we have an answer," and we fail EVERY single TIME. It's just a question of how long it takes between the hang up with the doctor and placing the "I have to tell you something," call. Whenever a conversation starts with those words, it's a fairly sure bet it's lousy news or scary news. It's just never, "I have to tell you something," followed by, "I just hit LOTTO!"
So, within moments of her crappy phone call, she caved in and called me. I know the doctor. He's my guy, too. I understand "doctor speak," and I most especially understand his accent, too. When mom asked, "How am I supposed to NOT freak?"---- I had no acceptable answer. I get it. So, I did about 15 seconds of, "I know what you mean," and then, I just freaked right along with her..... Sometimes, you just want to be heard and sometimes, verbalizing the fears is like looking under the bed with the flashlight. No monsters.
And it goes like this.....
First, I am sworn to secrecy. There is a family wedding on Saturday and there will be NO damper on this event. The only hand wringing? Mom and Me. Second, I realized there was only one solution at this moment. "This is why you have valium, do you have any in the house?" We continued to attempt nonsense chat-albeit with lots of The F Word flying. When I determined she indeed took the pill, I did what any normal person might do...... grabbed the bottle of tequila. (I waited to do anything that would render me unable to drive until I was sure it wouldn't be necessary for me to hop in the car.)
We commiserated on the phone until her valium kicked in and my tequila bottle went from the temperature I like (when I grab it from the freezer) to a bit too warm for my liking. FYI, my little science experiment regarding the length of time it takes for the tequila to get too warm? Precisely one hour, forty one minutes and a bunch of seconds. During that time my laptop was opened and closed at least a dozen times. I recall hearing myself, "Get off the internet, mom, there is nothing to look." AS IF......
Bottom line. She got the call. "We will rescan in three months."
Tomorrow, I'll be in the doc's office for MY test. Presuming it's nothing, I too will be on the three month retest. Brain right now? Fried.
My brain seems to lose all sorts of important factoids. Too bad I can't CHOOSE what I'd like to forget. I'm pretty sure I'd lose a big chunk of the last decade.