April 3rd 2014 – CT scan
I have never bonded with a stranger before like I did the day of my CT scan. Chugging back 2 large cups of contrast at 7am will do that. He was old, most likely 80+, and came with his wife. After we both had our scans I wished him the best and we parted ways. I wonder if his news was better or worse than mine?
Like deja vu the phone rang yet again no more than 2 hours after my scan. This time however, I was in my new apartment in Toronto. With no sense of urgency, I let the receptionist know I was not able to drive all the way back to the doctor’s office.
“Jamie, sorry do to this to you over the phone…..seeing multiple shadows on your liver….. when was your last Pap smear……”
“I’m sorry doctor, but what are you trying to tell me?”
“We see a shadow near your cervical area. We think you have cervical cancer that has spread to your liver. I’m setting you up an appointment with a surgeon and you should probably call your family doctor.”
Think about a time when you had devastating news. Your dog died, your significant other is leaving you, anything at all that crushed you to your core. Now, multiply that feeling by 100 and welcome to my first breath after hanging up the phone. I honestly cannot remember the first person I called. I remember I wanted it to be my mom, but it was 2 in the afternoon and I didn’t want to bother her at work. I only made a few phone calls to friends. Some I started calling then hung up because I realized, what was I really going to say? Tell the world the doctors think I may have cancer? Put everyone through a mind fuck of pain and questions? But then what? When they tell me in the end they were wrong, and the shadows are not cancer they are something else. I would have to explain that to everyone? Forget it. Stick to only a handful of friends.