Monday, March 21, 2011
So, today at work two men who can't really see very well at all got into a fist fight. When their supervisor tried to break it up she caught a wayward punch... in the HEART. All I can think about all day is how this guy (on accident) punched this lady in the heart.
Everyone involved remains (more or less) unharmed. The employee wasn't participating in a questionably sourced "Hindu" ceremony and didn't proceed to rip her heart out, so... that's cool?
On Friday after my regular onc-check-up they ended up sending me down for my PET scan. Ahead of schedule, and as a surprise actually. They try to fit people in ASAP, because many poor folks have to make long commutes to the city for doctor's appointments. These tests take awhile, a couple hours in fact of mostly laying about while the dye takes up, while they take their pictures. You get results next buisness day. So I spent the weekend wondering what my results were. At 9 am exactly this morning I called my doc's office to ask about the results.
I then spent the rest of the day dealing with bonkers super-full-moon fallout at work, and at 4pm called agian to ask if they doctor would call me or if I needed to make an appointment. This time the receptionist told me the doctor would call me later tonight.
KALI MAH, I feel like my heart is being slowly worked free from my chest.
You play the weird little pysch games with the scan tech, trying to read their tone, body language... we're they casual enough? Too casual? They aren't allowed to tell you anything, but they can't help giving up some clues so you try your best to read them.
Then you spend alot of time trying very hard not to think about the results, elephant, elephant, elephant. Every little thing is imbued with meaning when you're holding your breath. Is calling me good? do they give bad news over the phone? Of course they do, but you hope it isn't bad news, this time. The feeling is strangely that of taking a test in school on a topic you're familiar with, but know you haven't studied for.