Wednesday, November 19, 2008


Christmas came early for me vis-à-vis a bumped up appointment at Memorial Sloan Kettering… I was absolutely thrilled (crazy as it is). Although I’ve been working with my doctors in Albany, I needed to go to MSK for their insight.

Without looking at my schedule or my husband’s, I quickly accepted the appointment. My only problem was that the night before, I had sent all my inner workups (my PET/CT scan on a disc and I-131 scans) via pony express NOT fedex, because I thought I had over a month to get it all down there, so why would I waste all that money??? I always use Fedex—but we’re in a recession, we’re supposed to be cutting back… right?

I found out at 5pm on Friday that my appointment would be in NYC that Monday. Due to the mail mix up, I quickly called the radiology techs from two different offices to locate all the “pictures.” Well, the techs call them “pictures” which to me is reminiscent of a first grade picture day. I supposed “pictures” don’t sound as scary as "scan."

I pleaded with each office twice and then apologized profusely for calling so late on a Friday afternoon. For a second time, I needed the disc burned and images printed out first thing Monday. By the grace of God, it seemed like it was all going to be possible. I knew that my appointment at MSK would be worthless without the images.

So Monday morning I went to fetch the pieces of me—little images and splices of tissues and cells in my body—most behaving, and some not.

Whether you can let yourself go there or not—seeing the inside of the human body is fascinating—the organs and bones working to carry out life and a silhouette that really looks as if it belongs to you.

So, everything was ready and packed up in our car to head to New York City. The basis of my condition comes down to: images, blood work and a few reports.

While away, Owen was cared for my father (who's just back from Texas—what timing) and my in-laws. Before I let him go—we had some “deferred maintenance” that needed to be attended to—trimming Owen’s nails, thoroughly brushing his teeth, filling out tardy paperwork for daycare and some generalized obsessive organizing…

Just need to be sure my nest is in order.

And then life seems ok.

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