Scans

Ah, yes. The quarterly CT scan to see if the ugly lymphoma is trying to raise its nasty little head. Not a bad procedure, really. Nothing to eat or drink 4 hours before the test. Drink 2 containers of barium gunk over the course of an hour before the scan. Then 5 minutes for the 2 dips in the machine. Followed by the usual week's wait for the results from the oncologist.

I mention my scan to a friend and she grimaces. No, no, this is not scary, just routine. Oh, OK. Her relief is palpable. I smile, but in truth, I do have moments of concern despite there being no reason for thinking there is anything to worry about. I purpose to set such thoughts aside and not give them any leeway.

Today my appointment is at 5pm. Usually I have early morning appointments, so this is not my norm. The waiting room is full - mostly people waiting on someone who is in the back getting a test. A smiling technician appears with my 2 bottles of barium. I know the drill. He shakes the pudding out of the first container and pours me a cocktail with a flourish. I think of my friends on the French Rivera, and pretend that I am sharing drinks with them instead!

I glance at the carefully written schedule. Drink one glass of white lubricant at 5, 5:10, 5:20, [end of bottle one] 5:30, 5:40, 5:50. End of bottle 2. Done. The flat screen monitor blares the day's news about Bin Laden's death and recovery efforts in Japan (who would want to go inside that hot reactor?) while I imbibe. I take my time, savoring the slight hint of orange and mint in the gooey stuff.

The radiologist whisks me back, delighted that I don't need to strip out of anything (never wear anything with metal to these shindigs - no bra hooks, no zippers, nada). She instructs me to hoist my fat little butt up on the tongue of the scanner, then straps me in for the ten minute ride. First the neck area, then the chest and abdomen. Zip, zip. I watch the whirling sprockets, doodads and gizmos circle my face, spinning faster, then slower, the inching until just the right part is belly up.

Lights blink. A calm woman's voice, recorded of course, tells me to take a deep breath in and hold it. Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait. You can breathe. Whoosh! I exhale. The radiologist's voice floats towards me from somewhere over my head. All done. She extracts me from the machine and lowers the board on which I am helplessly ensconced. Velcro rips as she releases me. Insert earrings, retrieve purse, and I am out the door and on my way home.

Not bad. Although supper will have to wait a bit. I am too full to consider eating anything just yet.

Last Week Flurry

The Library is buzzing with activity. This morning when I arrive to open, there are a dozen students waiting to be let in. How unusual! I open 15 minutes early, I am so happy to see them.

Every computer is occupied. The clacking of keys punctuates the air as people pummel out papers and create bibliographies. We are down to the wire now. Small clusters of students gather here and there to complete group projects. In the quiet area every table is filled with students focused on notebooks and study guides, preparing for exams. There is a hushed undertone of angst.

Few eat at Garlock, preferring instead to load a Styrofoam tray and cart their food into the Library so they can continue cramming in the relatively quiet atmosphere conducive to such work. I love it! This is how busy we should be all the time. Here where the crux of classroom and dormitory lies, where friends sweat it out together, creating the almost palpable growth of mind and heart. Here where students are transformed to be able to shape and serve the world.

We partner with them in their work. Coming alongside wherever and however we are able. We cannot do their work for them, but we can help smooth out the kinks and knots so they can move forward. Yes, this last week of the semester is what it comes down to just before the doors open and recess is declared.

After which, it will be much easier to find a parking space [smile].

Farewell To Bethany

I remember the day we met at Church. We were having a job fair. Each activity in the Church had set up a table in the fellowship hall showing what they do and inviting people to join. I had set up the music table and had been trying to persuade people to join. I especially worked on some Roberts students who attend church and are music majors, but they declined, professing that their dance cards were already too full.

Then this quiet girl very softly said, "I'll sign up." That's nice. Its alright if you can't. Wait - what? You actually want to join choir? Yeah!!! And she gave me her contact information. That was three years ago, and she has been singing faithfully with us ever since.

What a joy to work with her. She also plays flute wonderfully, and I gladly added the instrumental component to our music as often as I could. She was a very enthusiastic supporter who was constantly encouraging others to join and often advertised our music endeavors on campus among other musicians.

Now she is leaving us to pursue academic plans elsewhere. We will miss her smiling face, her enthusiasm, her clear soprano, her joy. But we wish her well and hope her path may bring her back to us at some point. She will be the best music teacher ever. I am thankful that we had the opportunity to work with her, even though for a short time.