Sunday, May 26, 2013

Good News

it is almost 8:00 p.m. in the holy city of zefat.  i was already awakened this morning by my grandson.  he asked for chocolate milk, right off the bat.  i had gotten up at about 5:00 a.m with stomach pains. i took a pill. i travelled to tel aviv yesterday by myself.  that little inner voice let me know that i was in for some not great news.  i didn't want to break down in front of my sister.

i don't know how i always hear these things before they occur, but i do.  i have always been a bit psychic.  i was asked once, by a 'healy feely' healer if i was a medium.  i answered that i was a size large.  but truthfully, i have always been sensitive to suggestions and other peoples' feelings.  i have always had very strong intuition and hunches.

anyway, the doctor gave me a cancer free diagnosis.  praise the Lord!!!  i had heard the words, "sorry to have to tell you this" before i entered his office.  he shared the diagrams of the pet scan with me and everything seemed to be going my way.  suddenly as he read the written report,  i heard those same words. he was sorry to have to tell me that they had found a benign tumor on my skull.  it seems to be pre- existing the cancer treatment.  the first hospital completely missed it in december.  the next thing i was being told, was to schedule an MRI and appointment with a neurosurgeon.  i cracked up.   i couldn't stop crying.

the doctor did an internal exam with another female gyn.  she couldn't understand why i was sad.  i had just been given such great news.  my cancer was gone.  why was i crying.  all i could imagine was my head being sawed open.  i imagined the very claustrophobic chamber of the MRI and i already couldn't breathe.  i imagined my head covered in sterile bandages.  i already was imagining the worst scenario.  would i be left a vegetable?  who would take care of me if i was a drooling old lady in a wheelchair.

i don't have enough strength to rejoice in my good news.  i am overwhelmed by the thought of going back to tel aviv to do, yet, another invasive test.  the thought of surgery sends me to the moon.  i am a coward.  i can't cope anymore.  i still have not recovered form the radiation.  i still cannot enjoy a nice stroll down the lane.  i am housebound.  i have stomach pain and i am seriously, constipated for the first time in my life.  i don't have a life.  i am a walking list of complaints.

i told my grandson that the doctor told me that i wasn't sick anymore.  i mentioned that i had a 'boo-boo''in my head.  he whispered in my ear that i should have a full recovery, in hebrew.  i can imagine coming home after surgery fully bandaged.  i can imagine having pretty strong headaches, too.  i am now anxiously waiting to have a seizure or something.  i am scared out of mind. more scared than i was, even when i had cancer.  i don't know why i am taking this so hard.  i am just exhausted.

i still have to get dressed and get downtown to see my doctor.  i don't have an appointment.  i don't care.  i haven't seen him since i went away to do the radiation.  the last thing he said to me was that bad things do happen at good hospitals.  he told me that i was searching for angel, when i told him that i was going to do all my treatment at tel hashomer in tel aviv.  he told me that angels didn't exist. i definitely, found a couple of angels there.  i'm hoping that the neurosurgeon will be another angel for me, too.

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