Session 33, the last

It’s all over but the testing. As yesterday I arrived early and was in and out very quickly. Most of the regulars were there on the radiation therapy team and I was glad about the chance to give my gift and card to them. They received it graciously but had not opened the card when I left. I was a little disappointed in that and gave myself a talk to remind me that they have many, many patients and their warmth and individuation of me doesn’t mean I’m special. I am going to miss them.

I got my follow up appointment slip for July 22 and a voucher for blood work which apparently has to be done at Sunnybrook. Too bad because it’s much less handy than my local lab. Leaving for the last time I looked around the atrium and felt my distancing happening. When I come back I’m sure it will feel like returning to a school you went to where it’s familiar but you don’t belong. I know it sounds bizarre but I feel let down about it being over. It was good to hear from a friend who has been through the same experience for breast cancer that she too enjoyed the caring and felt a sense of loss and let down at the end. There is some crazy comfort in the routine and good things happened as a result of it. Probably the best was driving Cherie and my son Patrick to work several times. We had the time together and both of them were very appreciative.

As soon as I turned the corner onto Bayview Avenue for my walk to CNIB I began the anticipatory process for getting the news on July 22nd. Perhaps it was because it was a cold rainy day, hard enough after the unusually good weather we’ve had, but I quickly got to a bad news place and shut off the rehearsal. These rehearsals take the form of imaginary conversations with Dr. Szumacher. In my first one she has a big smile and announces that my PSA is zero. In effect I’m cured. I find this course too difficult to stay on because of my fear of being crushed if I am too optimistic. That meant the cure fantasy was immediately followed by a second dialogue in which my PSA has actually risen slightly and she recommends a return to hormone suppressants. After that I focused on tuning in to my surroundings and imagined going into the ravine to look for fiddleheads.

As disconnected as this sounds it comes from a memory of a friend, Doug, and I being in the ravine behind Sunnybrook picking fiddleheads many years ago. Somehow he learned it was place they could be found and with pleasant childhood memories of picking and eating them I joined him readily. We gave it up when it was clearly no longer a secret place because we were joined by dozens of others. Then a memory of reading a piece that fiddleheads are carcinogenic popped into my mind. Fortunately I reached CNIB and was distracted by that experience. Maybe, just maybe, I will make a donation to CNIB in view of all the money they saved me on parking.

Post Script
I haven’t decided yet if I will keep this up during the waiting period. I am thinking probably yes but at less frequent intervals when I feel the need or think I might actually have something to say. The trouble is that to be in the state of denial which puts me back into a more ordinary life I need to stay away from reflection. On the other hand some of it will undoubtedly happen. I can’t always push down the fear and that is probably a good thing. To those of you who have been kind enough to read my blog so far thank you.
Peter