I have an MRI scheduled for next week, plus two neuro-oncologist appointments and one with the radiologist. It's all part of the wait-and-see life that I live, stingily doled out in three-month increments. Stick me in the tube for an hour, tell me everything looks great, measure my balance, word skills and other cognitive functions, shake my hand, then tell me I'm a medical marvel and that you'll see me in three months.
About two weeks before each appointment, I start to get really anxious. My anxiety displays itself in a variety of fun and troublesome ways, nothing too obvious or treatable--and, I'm sure, blog fodder for future posts. This time around, I went and convinced myself (and many people whose calendars are in someway connected to mine) that my MRI was this week, not next, causing a big ol' scheduling traffic jam this week and next. Apologies to those
whose schedules (and in some cases, prayers & specific time-related good thoughts) were tangled up by my desire to be DONE WITH THIS.
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