Another Test

I'm having another test today.

An MRI with contrast.

They're looking for cancer.

Again.

Because in February, I had one good scare, and the result of that was that based upon the report from the Radiologist, my Chemo Doc ordered an MRI with contrast, for August.

August has always been a difficult month for me, for lots of reasons. But the biggest reason being that on August 16, 1988, the summer before my junior year in high school, I was riding my bike and hit by a truck that dragged me about 15 feet on the asphalt. I am fortunate and thankful that I suffered no breaks or sprains. I didn't hit my head, and this was before there was a push for bike helmets. I recognize how lucky I was (and am). But the road rash that was created ran down my right leg, from my upper thigh, all the way to my ankle. The therapy and healing process was excruciating, both physically and emotionally.

Before today's MRI, I know they are drawing labs from my chemo port, because I still have that mother lovin' thing in, and then they are going to inject me with some bullshit that, if I have cancer, is going to cause the cancer cells to light up.

I know I'll go in and get topless, remove all jewelry, absolutely no metal on my body, and then I'll put on a gown with the opening in the front and I'll lay on my stomach, with my face down in a cradle, and the tech will probably be a female tech and she'll be responsible for placing my breasts into the dedicated breast coils, which are also known as holes, and that I have to be touched by yet another stranger and she'll wear rubber gloves that will probably be pink, because god forbid you ever forget that you're a breast cancer patient. And absolutely nothing about this is fun, or sexy, or makes me feel like a woman. It's actually super stressful, and a little bit humiliating.

And then they'll insert me and the table into the MRI machine. Maybe they'll let me plug my phone into their system, and cue up my own music, like the cool techs when I had the PET scan with contrast right after I was diagnosed with breast cancer, and we all listened to U2's Songs of Innocence.

Maybe the liquid bullshit they're going to inject me with will not seep out and run down my breasts like it did for a sister breast cancer survivor who shared her experience a long time ago, before my own MRI with contrast was ordered.

So knowing this was coming, I've spent the last several days taking the best care of myself as I possibly could. Building strength and positive energy. Surrounding myself with people who love me and whom I love very much.

Wednesday I took Isaac for a check-up and x-rays on his arm. He's been out of the cast for a couple of weeks, and in a removable splint. The x-rays showed that the arm is mostly healed. Mostly. Basically there's a little lip on one of the bones and he has some restrictions with his arm for another couple of weeks, but doesn't have to wear his splint. He is permitted to swim and play soccer, but he's not permitted to hit or block with his right arm at Hapkido. And absolutely no wrestling with his brother, because his brother weights more than twice what he does.

See what I did there? Doctor's orders, until the next x-ray, which is currently slated for Sept 19, absolutely positively, no wrestling with your brother. I'm the only one who can raise my voice and yell at them to stop wrestling, which creates a tremendous amount of stress and puts a lot of pressure on me. Dr. Dean said, no wrestling. Jesus, you don't need to start third grade with a brand new cast, child. Mommy for the win.

After the doctor's appointment, we went downtown for pizza and ran a few errands, including finding a cool sketchbook for him. It had been a really long time since I have been able to spend some quality time alone with Isaac, and it was much needed by both of us.

Thursday I took the boys to the lake for the first time all summer. Randy needed to rest his voice from his procedure on August 2. On our way out 101, we watched a bald eagle launch off of an anciently tall tree and take flight, soaring over us and allowing the boys to watch it through the panoramic moon roof in the Highlander; a good omen. We met up with Momma Christine and her boys, and we were there for about 5 hours, catching up on the important things and making plans for the future. My boys have been wanting to swim out to the log and jump off of it for the past couple of years, so whenever we go to the pool, we've been working on jumping off the diving board and swimming to the side, which is level one. And the Olympic Platform Diving is the Boss Level, just so you have an idea of what we're dealing with here. There's a large range of levels for diving, but I won't go into that here.

Anyway, thank the Goddess for Momma Christine always having a safety net because she had life vests, and the boys felt ok to swim out to the log and jump off with life vests. Totally reasonable. I swam out there with them, in my new Wonder Woman swimsuit, which was a gift from Kate and Emily, and I pulled a flotilla of rafts with four boys who swam-floated...you know, like you do...and Momma Christine. She provided the life vests, I provide the transportation out to the log; that's the definition of teamwork.

It's empowering to be that strong of a swimmer in a glacier-carved, and fabled bottomless lake which really and truly is cold enough to take your breath away. I know now why the Master swimmers don wet suits when they swim in this lake. Not that I swam across it, I'm not at that level, but swimming out to the log a couple of times, and jumping off the log, and helping the boys to climb up that log and jump off that log...took a lot of my energy, or perhaps I gave a lot of my energy. Regardless, it was an invigorating and empowering experience. All of it. We even had our first ever stop at Granny's Cafe for ice cream on the way home. Yup. First time ever. It was delicious and even had two pleasant surprises of bumping into old friends while at Granny's.

Friday, a power yoga class with a young woman who led a beautiful class and included Warrior II, side angle, triangle, and even fallen triangle, providing power and strength in the shoulders, legs and core. These poses helped give me a strong foundation, as well as courage and strength to head into today's MRI. It was one of those classes that the instructor says what you needed to hear, at that particular moment, and left me feeling empowered and thankful that I was able to take this time for myself.

Saturday a 2-mile walk with an old friend along the Olympic Discovery Trail, through the woods with the green summer canopy overhead, and eventually out to the Strait. It had been entirely too long since I was able to walk with her, and we were able to catch up on important stuff, and making plans for the future. We enjoyed the view of ocean, the sound of the surf, and smell the fresh salty air. We figured out we'll be friends seven years come January, when I started at the dojang. We marveled at the unique health changes, and challenges, we've each gone through during that time.

I came home from that walk and cleaned out both freezers, throwing away a lot of long-forgotten processed foods. The extra freezer was growing a few glaciers and so I took it outside and hosed it out. You know...like you do.... And vowed that this really does need to be the last time for this because defrosting a freezer drains a lot of my energy that can be spent doing other things that are healthy...like sewing or writing. Or playing video games with my kids, like we did on Sunday as a family.

Today after my MRI, my friend Florence and I are having lunch. She is meeting me at the hospital, before the test. Speaking from experience, it's really nice to have a friend be there before and after. Seeing a familiar face of a person who loves and supports me and my family makes all of this a little easier.

Distractions and support are important.

Because today there's a test.

I'm hoping that this August is easier for our family than the previous two have been. And the ones in years past have been.

I'm cautiously optimistic that when Randy and I go see the new-to-us Medical Oncologist on Thursday for the results of today's MRI with contrast that the doc says something like "your boobs are both totally awesome!" but that's not very professional. So I'm hoping he says something similar to the news my husband got a couple of weeks ago, when the Lady ENT said "there's no evidence of cancer."

That would be really lovely.

And hopefully turn my attitude about August around.