Blue Reflections

What is there about PET scans that causes me to reflect on the events of the past few years? I suppose the fact that I have to have these tests because of the cancer, and because every test holds the insinuation that I might discover another episode of cancer has cropped up. Whatever it is, it sets me apart from others who do not have to have tests every few months, don't have to face their own mortality time and again.

I thought back over the chain of events that took me to Illinois, my first direct brush with cancer. I had met Leslie at a Music Library Convention in Las Vegas before I interviewed for the position in her library. She was charming, brimming with love and life, engaging. She and her husband were planning to spend some vacation time after the conference exploring nearby desserts and parks. I liked her immediately.

Before I came for the interview, in a matter of a few short weeks, she had been diagnosed with cancer, had surgery and chemo, and could not participate in the process. I was hired and had worked several months before she was able to return to work, and she was so wanting to be my mentor, to teach me the ropes, to bring me along.

We were headed for a great friendship.

And suddenly, she was back in the hospital, dying. They tried so many medicines, so many interventions. But the cancer had spread to her liver and lungs. Her days were numbered. She elected to stay at home, and we all took turns visiting in the daytime so she wouldn't be alone.

The last time I spent the afternoon with her, we talked and laughed and looked at pictures and celebrated her publication in a newsletter. Finally it was time for me to go back to work. I rose to leave, and she begged me to stay, just for a little longer. I was torn. I was still new on the job, but it was evident that she didn't have much time.

I compromised and stayed a very short time. It was the last time she was coherent. I went several times to administer back rubs and foot massages, but she was so ill she couldn't manage to talk. Her eyes said it all. I kept a constant banter of chatter going about little things at work, and she hungrily drank it in. We both knew time was short.

The next night I stopped over about 7 to give her a massage, but they were bringing in a hospital bed to make her more comfortable. I told Leslie I would come back the next day. She grabbed my hand, her eyes pleading. I knew she was in pain and needed the massage, but I was so in the way that I left anyways.

That night she died. Her husband told me that she became coherent and they talked for several hours, just like the good old days. Her Mom and sister were there. They said their good byes, and she went to sleep. I never saw her again.

When you have cancer, when you are dying, you affect others. I know that quite well. I am concerned about the effect these tests have on Drew. I know he gets anxious about my health - not so much because of what I go through, but because it creates an environment of uncertainty for him.

We have talked often of what would happen to him if I died. He would go to live with my sister Deb, and she would put him in a Christian boarding school. He would hear from his brothers often and spend time with them. But in essence, he would be on his own. I know he would be desperate to know that someone cares about him. Other than God, of course.

Sometimes his behavior tests that hypothesis now. Like this morning. Because my test was scheduled so early, he needed to walk to the pick up place for the carpool himself instead of me driving him there. It meant he had to get himself up and there on time. It meant he had to go to bed early, and indeed, when I got home from choir practice, he was in bed, asleep at 8:45!

In spite of that, he begged to stay home today. Please don't make me go to school. I am tired. I make him go. Much better to be distracted and busy than home sleeping or watching TV. Don't allow the fear to grow. Put your concerns aside. We will not know anything today anyways, even though we expect all the results to be completely positive.

He knows and I know that there is the tiniest little chance that things will go awry. So it throws his mood into grumpiness for a bit until we get the all clear. Sigh. I have to deal with this myself. Hard to also bear in mind that this young man is struggling with big issues too. Go gentle on him. Get something positive to do over the weekend - go see a soccer game, take in a concert (Denver and the Mile High Orchestra). I bought the tickets this afternoon, in between catching up at work since I was rather late getting out of the test, and running to the bathroom from having the test.

Well, tomorrow we shall take a breather.