X-ray Results November

It is one week before Thanksgiving. It is already cold and the sky looks like snow is coming. The days are noticeably shorter and the nights longer. In short it is another gloomy November day in upstate New York. My bet is that winter will arrive soon.

We are preparing for Thanksgiving which we all love. I got out the decorations and the turkey made years ago has a worn look about him. The tail feathers are in need of some glue and patching. That is a perfect job for an 8 year old girl and set Molly to doing it.

Cindy comes home and I ask the usual questions. Today she had her blood drawn to check the levels of white blood cells and her total blood count. It is an indication of how the chemo is working and whether her body is fighting the effects or allowing it to work its dark magic. She says they are good and about where they always are which tells me nothing. I ask more specific questions and then I ask the big question. "Did anyone take a look at the x-ray?" It is like pulling teeth to get any information. She believes that if I truly know what is going on it will scare and hurt me and that by not telling me she protects me. Not knowing is worse than knowing. If I can label it, give it a name and know what it is doing I feel like I can battle it, do something about it.

"Yes and they said they saw no lesions. It looks like arthritis. I don't believe them but they were the ones who read it."

Hooray! It is only degenerative arthritis! How weird is that? I am happy because my wife has a degenerative bone disease. When compared to the alternative it is wonderful in this crazy logic that now rules our household. I am ecstatic!

"Why don't you believe it?"

"I don't know it just feels like, you know."

"But this is the same group that read the first x-ray right? Why wouldn't they get it right this time? That's gotta be it, arthritis."

"I don't know it just feels different from the other times my hips used to hurt when I ran."

"Well remember the doctor gave you meds to strengthen your bones and increase the production of white cells right? Maybe its that." I won't let go of this slim bit of hopeful news. I won't let her dash it either.

"Maybe your right. It was in the last treatment. Maybe so." She lets it go and doesn't argue the point anymore.

So there you have it, a microcosm of the disease cancer. We start with pain, then add fear, unknowing, the desire to protect, anxiety, anticipation then hope again. I understand why it is difficult because if you hope too much it just sets you up for disappointment.