When Cancer Is Not a Dance

Sometimes cancer is not a dance.

Instead of calling you to a long, slow waltz, it assaults you--a knock-out punch to the head.

You stumble back to your feet, but it grabs you from behind, spins you, throws you across the room.

You hit the wall and collapse.

You find yourself in the hospital, not receiving care but lying with bony hands around your throat, unable to swallow, finally unable to breathe.

                                                  --in memory of a friend who died April 17, 2015.

The Phone Call

"I will call you on either Thursday or Friday and let you know the results," Dr. Iyengar said after my biopsy was completed.

No call on Thursday morning; finally at 4:15 pm a call from her office assistant, Jose:

"We need to schedule a time for the doctor to discuss the results with you," he said.  "When can you come in?"

Tomorrow, April 25, 10 am.  

That phone call stopped me in my tracks.

Apparently the results of the biopsy could not be discussed over the phone.  They required an appointment.

Clearly the report involved cancer.

I did some reflection for the rest of the evening.  

I wondered what stage the cancer was--it sure seemed big on the ultrasound screen.