Progress Report

You folks probably don't really want to know what I think about random stuff.
You want to know if I'm sicker, or better, or getting new treatment, or seeing the Top Top Man to get the All Clear. 

I had a couple of scans a few weeks ago. 
I like scans. 
I listened to Amy Winehouse in the MRI machine this time, though they could do with upgrading their headphones because it was like listening to a band playing in the bar while you're in the toilet. (Maybe I could appeal to Dre to donate a decent set of Beats to the MUH. He is a doctor after all).
But it was enjoyable and relaxing and an opportunity to take deep breaths slowly while lying down. What mother wouldn't appreciate twenty minutes of that?
I had a CT scan before that, which is never as much fun. Drink a litre of stuff, get a cannula stuck in my arm, have the contrast injection with the I-just-weed-myself sensation and taste the nasty taste at the back of my throat. They do have the psychedelic tropical picture on the ceiling to distract you, but since you can't see that while you're in the scan tunnel, it's kind of pointless. 

So anyway, scans done. 

And then we wait.
Or rather, other people wait, and I just continue on with life. 
After any scan, I feel just like I used to after exams. (I've done lots of exams). Totally unconcerned about when I will get the result, because I've done the hard part. I have presented my knowledge. I can change nothing. There is great relief in passing over the finished paper because then I can skip out of the place and concentrate on the next thing.
That's not to say I won't have to deal with the result. But that's a whole other day's work. Whenever the result is known to me, I will have to work out what it means - do I have to repeat the exam (luckily that never happened to me), or can I just march ahead to the next phase of my academic life?
The liminal time in between the test and the result is a beautiful exercise in denial and letting go.

So the day comes when you get the result, and a new reality begins.

Or it would do, if I didn't get the result while I was in Dublin airport on my way off on another jaunt. 
The gist of the conversation was that the results were good, or certainly not bad, at worst the same, at best a bit better, the surgeon will see what he can do - BING BONG, FLIGHT NUMBER EI171 IS NOW BOARDING - sure we'll talk to you when you get back, no reason for you not to get on a plane today, enjoy yourself, UNATTENDED LUGGAGE WILL BE REMOVED....

I should be more proactive about moving on to the next phase. I should pester secretaries and phone busy consultants and get on to my local TD (though I guess he's been a bit preoccupied in the past week or so).

I should do this for my support team almost more than for myself. 

But I am happy to wait in this lovely warm bath of denial and pretend that I won't be back in hospital in the next few months getting cut up or irradiated or poisoned. 

Lovely lovely denial.

Think I'll stick on a bit of Amy Winehouse.