The results of the biopsy, while unknown to me (and maybe to the lab and the tumor board at this point), are fixed and not susceptible to change. I don't know, at this point, what they are, but that lack of knowledge does not change the outcome. The outcome will be communicated to me on Friday (tomorrow afternoon) at my follow up appointment with the oncologist at Memorial Sloan Kettering. I grow increasingly anxious, nervous, fretful, scared.

For most of the week, I have managed to keep a fairly even keel. I have not had great emotional swings. I have chosen to believe that the diagnosis will be benign. I have seized on several facts and chosen to believe that these facts auger an outcome for the ultimate result. I have done so knowing that I am not a doctor, knowing that these facts may not really be that important in the great scheme of decision making, choosing to ascribe great significance to these facts anyway, fearing -- just the same -- that I have deliberately fooled myself into giving these facts great weight and allowing them to comfort me, to calm me. So, I guess that means I have still a nagging concern that my comfort is premised on a faulty foundation. But it is all that I have right now and so I seize upon it, I hold it close, I don't hold it up to the light, I hope that the holes which may exist are holes I have worn in it from touching it over and over in the same place, and I choose to take comfort.

Its just a coping mechanism, really. But it has helped.

I have been tired as hell all week. Partly, maybe, that's a lingering effect from the surgery. Partly, I have been sleeping poorly -- not enough and not terribly well when I do sleep. But yesterday I made it through an almost full day at work for the first time all week. And that was good.

I have been taking comfort from food, sort of. That's not really too helpful since I cannot exercise right now. But every night on the way home from the city, I buy a chocolate chip cookie to eat on the train. I have no explanation for this, or, at least, none which I care to explore and find.

As I said, I have been coping ok this week. Until last night. Last night, I began to imagine what my wife and I might do to celebrate a benign diagnosis. I thought, maybe I should wear a tie after all on Friday and we could go somewhere nice and get gloriously, gleefully, gratefully drunk. But then, then I had the thought, but what if the news on Friday is not good? And that's when I began to experience feelings of panic again.

That feeling of panic lingers even now. I don't know what else to say, really. Friday will come as it comes. I cannot hurry it and wanting it (and also not wanting it) to come will change nothing -- it will take the same amount of time either way. But we are not made to be rational at all times, are we? We are creatures of emotion.

And so, my stomach churns as the clock ticks relentlessly forward and I await my diagnosis, sometimes calm, sometimes terribly anxious. But always feeling blessed by my children.

Thanks for reading.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 04:56 AM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
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