I’m sitting in the hospital’s living room, or as close to it as you can get. I am typing with one swiping left thumb, because my right arm has an IV that is gift-wrapped for its next use, in an hour’s time. Every scan day is the same in that nothing and everything is the same. Today I had my MRI at the hospital instead of at the outpatient facility up the avenue. Today I waited for the crosstown bus and today again it left me a whole avenue away and as I approached the hospital’s main entrance I found myself in a passive aggressive race walk with a smartphoning doctor who was still determined to enter before me. In the end I let him win.
Today everything is later, meaning I could eat breakfast, lots of it, but am now fasting at lunchtime. The kids are going to aftercare today, which they haven’t yet done this school year, and I think that this concerns them more than the fact that Mom had/has/may no longer have cancer. They like their routines.
Directly from my CT scan, I’ll see Dr K, the neurosurgeon, who doesn’t like to wait until the ink dries on MRIs – he wants to give you results right away. I appreciate instant gratification – always have. But Dr K seems like a Highly Efficient Human, and as such I find him highly intimidating, for all of his Canadian affability. But it will be good to go home knowing my brain is – hopefully – well.
I’ll have to wait until Wednesday to find out from Dr P about the rest of me.