Sweet Potato Pies and MRIs

Bo brought the boys to visit Papa on Tuesday, and they took him to lunch. I am happy to report that Papa is doing very well. They returned with a real gift. Before she died, Big Nanny had made some sweet potato pies for Bo and the boys and had frozen them. We baked one of them Tuesday and put the other back in the freezer for a special occasion. I don't think Bo has ever savored a pie as much as he did this one. When I was in my office yesterday, Bo and the boys were having pie after finishing up lunch. I overheard Cole say to Bo, "I wish that Big Nanny was still around to make sweet potato pies for us," Bo agreed and responded back, "She's up in heaven making sweet potato pies for God, and all the angels, and everyone else up there, and they are all going 'Mmmm, mmmm, mmmm! This is the best sweet potato pie I have ever had!'" I will have to ask Papa if he has the recipe so that Big Nanny can live on through her pies. I'm not sure I can live up to the legend, and neither is Cole, but I would like to try.

Now for a Bo update. It has been three weeks since he visited his doctor for his "sympathy cyst", and it hasn't gone away, so the doctor scheduled an ultrasound for him this coming Monday (July 31 - my Mom's birthday). He will be going to the Women's Imaging Center, my new hangout. Even though his doctor and Dr. P don't think it is anything to be worried about, Bo went on the internet to WebMD, and what he read really concerned him. He said that breast cancer is men usually occurs as a lump directly behind the nipple, which is where Bo's lump is. I know it is absolutely NOT breast cancer because that would be so statistically improbable, not to mention just way too freaky. Of the two of us, Bo is the worrier, so even though I hate to wish away time, for his sake, I can't wait for next week so we can know for sure that it is nothing that ominous. So Bo will be at the Women's Imaging Center for an ultrasound on what would have been my Mom's 66th birthday, and I was there yesterday on his Mom's birthday for my second MRI.

For five years, we have lived on a lake, and for most of that time, I didn't pay any attention to it, even though I love the water. Ever since the diagnosis, I have made an effort to notice and enjoy my surroundings. For most of my life, I have not eaten breakfast because I just never felt like eating in the morning. Ever since the diagnosis, I have made an effort to nourish my body with healthy food throughout the day. So yesterday morning before I left for my MRI, I was eating my bowl of fresh fruit on the deck overlooking the lake. It was a typical Southern summer morning - the humidity that would rule the later part of the day was just beginning to make its presence known, but it was still very pleasant and comfortable.

I was contemplating the shift in my life from blissful (?) ignorance to a waiting game predicated on test results. (That's not just for the short term either. Once I am cured and officially enter the survivor category, I will be continue to be regularly tested for many years into the future to ensure there has not been a recurrence.) These thoughts, while obviously not uplifting, weren't depressing either. It just reinforced for me that life occurs in the everyday existence between all of the big events, or in my case these days, between the tests. So while the boys departed to the movie theater to watch Curious George, I headed to the Imaging Center determined to enjoy the experience! (Okay, that's a stretch, but at least not be counting the minutes until it was over.)

In the waiting room, I was greeted very cheerfully by the MRI tech, a young woman named Jamie who led back to the MRI area. As Jamie and I were talking, she told me that she had lost twins last year. One died at a day old and the other at 23 days old. My heart went out to her. Early on, I had said that my worst nightmare came true when I was diagnosed with breast cancer, but I nearly instantly reversed that thought once I had voiced it because truly my worst nightmare would be for something to happen to my boys.

When she so cheerfully greeted me, I could have easily let myself think that here is someone who doesn't have a care in the world, and I would have been so wrong. We really don't know what is going on in people's lives, but what I am beginning to really notice is that people you would think have every reason to be gloomy are far from it, while others who seem to have so much to be happy about aren't.

I guess since I knew what to expect this time, the MRI wasn't a big deal. It was still noisy, of course, but I just kind of meditated through it. Joe, the tech from last time, again asked me type of music I would like to hear during the procedure. I told him that I really enjoyed the top 40 station I didn't hear last time over the din, but that I would let him pick the station that I wouldn't be able to hear this time. He picked classical. In one of my more brilliant moments, I asked Jamie if the disposable earplugs they gave me were wireless and picked up the radio stations. She looked at me very kindly and said, "No, there are speakers over your head when you are in the machine."

We were all hoping the test results would be back today, but Dr. P's office called and said that Dr. D, the radiologist, hadn't read them yet, never mind transcribed them. I know I am not their only patient, but I was hoping Dr. D would expedite them. Dr. P doesn't work Fridays or Mondays apparently, so that means I must wait until Tuesday. Then she and Dr. H must hook up and consult. If the decision is to continue chemo, I want to resume immediately so I can get it over with. Plus, I don't like the idea of the tumor sitting around with nothing attacking it but the pirahna! Ideally, I would have started the next round today. Well, I am not going to let it interfere with life between the test results!