Everyone likes games. Cards, board games, video games... we all enjoy different ones. But right now I am playing a game no one likes. The Waiting Game. It's fairly simple. Your imagination holds all the cards. One by one, it lays down a "What If?" card. Your goal is to look at the What if, think of an answer and (this is the hard part) whatever you do, DO NOT PICK UP THE CARD AND RUN WITH IT! I know... I know... it's hard not to do it, especially when some of the cards are so tempting.
First card down. No one has called about the MRI yet. What If...
Surely everything is okay. I mean, if it wasn't, they would have called by now, right? Or maybe there is something, but they want to see all of the scans before they make a decision. But that nurse was so chirpy and happy... she would have to be one sick woman to be that happy if she saw a big tumor, right? But supposedly they can't interpret those charts. But seriously... how can she do the test if she doesn't know what to look for, right? And she has to have seen a tumor before... right?
*Dropping the card. Looking at the dealer* You thought you had me didn't you? Tough... Next card.
Second card down. My heart check-up. What if...
Oh. This one is too easy to not pick up. The technician said I have beautiful insides. He even explained what I was seeing on the screen. I pointed out to him what I saw (an alien beating a drum, the middle of a peony, a man in a funny hat playing an upright piano, two angels upside down paying patty cake, an angry moth) and he laughed. My heartbeat.... it has a good rhythm and you can dance to it!
* HA! Triumphant grin at the dealer* You can do better than that.
Next Card. The PET scan. What if...
Hmmm.... The biggest question is obvious. What If the cancer is back? I hope it isn't, but I have to be prepared if it is. It could be. And it could be anywhere. Under my arms is so swollen from the Lymph-edema that I can't say for sure that something else isn't going on in that area. The muscles across my chest are so tight from surgery, not to mention work and stress, that it does have sharp shooting pains sometimes. And yeah, sometimes I think to myself that it might be the cancer coming back, that it might even now be growing on my chest wall, or burrowing into my skin, or creeping like a thief through my lymph system. But honestly... what happens next? Well... probably more chemo and radiation. Worst case scenario, chemo, radiation and more surgery. I might be bald again. I might spend more time with the toilet. I might get weak. It might hurt... oh wait... pain... hmmm... now that is something to think about. The last time around, it mostly itched and the pain was from the treatment. All those places they cut me, burned me, poked me and bruised me. The port scar. The biopsy scar. The mastectomy scars. The drainage tube scars. The sore throat from vomiting. The sore stomach. The sore hind end from the diarrhea. The pains from constipation. The muscle pains from the chemo. The countless needle pricks. The peeling skin.... Looking back, it was an awful lot to go through. But I can do it again the same way I did the first time. One day at a time. Of course, there is the fact that this time I am not starting from perfectly healthy except for the cancer. This time ( here the Evil Dealer grins at me), well, honey, This time you are already a little weaker, a little more easily worn out. This time you don't have anything easy to cut off. If they cut you again... it's going to be something much more dangerous.
*Slams down the card*
Final Card. What if it's already too far gone?
At this point, I know the Dealer is playing dirty. There is no way I am touching that card. I walk away from the game.
I win.
First card down. No one has called about the MRI yet. What If...
Surely everything is okay. I mean, if it wasn't, they would have called by now, right? Or maybe there is something, but they want to see all of the scans before they make a decision. But that nurse was so chirpy and happy... she would have to be one sick woman to be that happy if she saw a big tumor, right? But supposedly they can't interpret those charts. But seriously... how can she do the test if she doesn't know what to look for, right? And she has to have seen a tumor before... right?
*Dropping the card. Looking at the dealer* You thought you had me didn't you? Tough... Next card.
Second card down. My heart check-up. What if...
Oh. This one is too easy to not pick up. The technician said I have beautiful insides. He even explained what I was seeing on the screen. I pointed out to him what I saw (an alien beating a drum, the middle of a peony, a man in a funny hat playing an upright piano, two angels upside down paying patty cake, an angry moth) and he laughed. My heartbeat.... it has a good rhythm and you can dance to it!
* HA! Triumphant grin at the dealer* You can do better than that.
Next Card. The PET scan. What if...
Hmmm.... The biggest question is obvious. What If the cancer is back? I hope it isn't, but I have to be prepared if it is. It could be. And it could be anywhere. Under my arms is so swollen from the Lymph-edema that I can't say for sure that something else isn't going on in that area. The muscles across my chest are so tight from surgery, not to mention work and stress, that it does have sharp shooting pains sometimes. And yeah, sometimes I think to myself that it might be the cancer coming back, that it might even now be growing on my chest wall, or burrowing into my skin, or creeping like a thief through my lymph system. But honestly... what happens next? Well... probably more chemo and radiation. Worst case scenario, chemo, radiation and more surgery. I might be bald again. I might spend more time with the toilet. I might get weak. It might hurt... oh wait... pain... hmmm... now that is something to think about. The last time around, it mostly itched and the pain was from the treatment. All those places they cut me, burned me, poked me and bruised me. The port scar. The biopsy scar. The mastectomy scars. The drainage tube scars. The sore throat from vomiting. The sore stomach. The sore hind end from the diarrhea. The pains from constipation. The muscle pains from the chemo. The countless needle pricks. The peeling skin.... Looking back, it was an awful lot to go through. But I can do it again the same way I did the first time. One day at a time. Of course, there is the fact that this time I am not starting from perfectly healthy except for the cancer. This time ( here the Evil Dealer grins at me), well, honey, This time you are already a little weaker, a little more easily worn out. This time you don't have anything easy to cut off. If they cut you again... it's going to be something much more dangerous.
*Slams down the card*
Final Card. What if it's already too far gone?
At this point, I know the Dealer is playing dirty. There is no way I am touching that card. I walk away from the game.
I win.
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