The first day of school, my 6 month scans

Yesterday was a strange day. The sun was shining. Still feels like summer. It was Saul and Lev’s official first day of school: Lev to kindergarten, Saul to second grade. I mentioned in an earlier post that we’ve moved across the bridge to Piedmont. So we’re in a new home, a new school district and all is well.

Except that I also had my 6 month scans in that familiar trailer. The juxtaposition of normal/happy life with this disease is almost overwhelming. In the morning I was chatting with the other parents and sharing excitement about the school year, logistics about after school programs, enthusiasm about our teachers. Hours later, instead of picking the kids up from school, I was getting injected with radioactive isotopes. I sat quietly, doing my best to still the mind from the swirl of future-oriented thoughts. Not much else to do. The timing just worked out that way and I don’t really feel like changing it.

Oddly, the familiarity of this position seems like a kind of home base. As much as I hate this process, my relationship to it isn’t antagonistic. I know that if my results are bad that I’m prepared to fight. I’ve done it, frankly at this point it’s a part of my identity. Actually this state of purgatory is the most anxiety-provoking. I can tell its been affecting me, thought I don’t like to admit it. And my thoughts go out to the millions of folks that need to deal with this on a regular basis. It’s excruciating. I do my best not to let it control me but it’s clear there’s background anxiety eating up cycles.

I did a hypnosis session the other day with a friend who is getting certified in it (she’s a top notch psychologist in her own right and taking on new skills). It was actually quite powerful, not because she put a spell on me or anything like that, but rather she enabled me to go deep into my own memory banks with skillful guided imagery; helping me pull dusty memories from forgotten shelves. One observation that stuck with me, largely because it was visceral/kinesthetic, in which I imagined some challenging times in high-school. I thought about the anxiety certain situations provoked. And the incredible part was that I felt that emotion manifest in my abdomen, around the location of the tumor. I don’t think I’m reading into it but there is a connection there worth exploring. It’s an interesting practice.

All of which is to say these appointments, this whole process, serves as a reminder. I find value in it. I’m forcing myself to but I also deeply believe it. We are mortal and fragile beings. So are our loved ones. It’s easy to forget or it would probably occupy all our thoughts (we would not get much done). And so I don’t see this as a diminishment of my experience but rather as an enhancement. It adds value to my life in the form of imparting gratitude and helping me get present. Value is a function of perception.

I’m not sure the right way to approach this whole process. What I know for certain is that what matters is extreme honesty in going through this. It’s scary. I’ll deal with what comes. And I can’t sugar coat any of it.

Should get results today or tomorrow.