Wednesday, September 29, 2010

D Day Minus 166: (September 24, 2009): Happy to Panicky

“Finally,” followed by a really loud “Yahoo and Woot Woot!” is what I said when you called me around lunch time. My office mate thought I’d won the lottery. This was even better. Much better than winning the Superbowl, that is, if I liked football – and going to Disneyland. You’d just got off the phone with Hobby, the trial coordinator at MD Anderson. Now you had an honest to God schedule. Something so we could plan for the next month.

You confirmed the appointments for our trip that I already had booked. You needed those tests to prove what you and I already knew. You were perfect for the trial. So what if it meant more bloodwork, a PET Scan, and an Echocardiogram. You knew how to get poked with needles, prodded, and blasted with invisibles rays. I knew how to wait and wait for you to get poked, prodded, and blasted.

This was really old news, but I forced you start at the beginning and say everything slow and twice. That didn’t get a woot woot out of me. It wasn’t until the second time you told me that you had dates for the first round, which was the first three weeks in October. That’s when I started carrying on. You laughed and three days of tension between us about getting things ‘nailed downed’ dissolved.

You were scheduled to start the trial on the October 6th, so you’d be flying out on the 5th. You expected to be done with all the tests and results so you could fly back on the 8th. You asked, “Do you think Katie can come with me on this trip?” You knew what my answer was before you asked, “Of Course.” I meant it when I said it. Then reality set in. I wasn’t going to be around if there was some big news. And now I had to wait: wait until you coordinated with Katie to schedule the flight; wait to hear the results of the tests; and wait in general. Maybe I wasn’t as good at waiting as I thought. Or maybe this was a different kind of waiting.

Needless to say, I’d gone from happy to panicky in less than sixty seconds. Waiting with you was easier than waiting without you.

October 14th and 15th were the dates for the second week. October 22nd and 23rd were the dates for the third week. I checked my calendar and blocked off the days so I could juggle work. We decided, I’d be your travel buddy for those weeks.

You thought I was mad or worried about the cost of airfare, car, and hotels. It wasn’t that at all. It was waiting at a distance and not knowing real-time. You caught me in the middle of a mental slap down – “Katie needs to know what this about. Greg can take care of himself. Worrying is not productive. You’re going on the other trips. Stop being so greedy. Life goes on. Greg needs time with other people. And yada yada, blah, blah.”  My slap down didn't work.  I was still worried about waiting. Oh and about giving up some control. Now that is funny, don't you think?  How can you control the uncontrollable?  Anyway, you didn’t have that worry because you were at every appointment, treatment, and test. You knew. You always said this was easier for you than me.  But, I'd say it was a draw - especially when it came to controlling the uncontrolable.

“Are you okay?” You asked.

“Of course.” I said with a high pitch and forced enthusiasm. Maybe House had it right. Everyone lies – especially to themselves.

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