After today’s treatment, I have two treatments in November and one in December which will round out my year of chemo. It wasn’t how I envisioned spending 2015 but that’s certainly how it worked out. From a spiritual perspective, it may not have been what I wanted but it was certainly what I needed.
When I saw Dr. Paul today, he complimented my hair and asked me more questions about it than anything else. So that gives you an idea of how smoothly things are going right now. We chat about hair. And fingernails. And his spiffy new cowboys boots. Yep, he wears cowboy boots with his suits every day of the year. I love it. He’s a man of great intellect, whose work is to save lives. He can cite research statistics off the top of his head. He can explain highly detailed physiological processes with finesse and grace. He’s a serious and important man. Also, he’s a man with panache. Not many men could pull off wearing cowboy boots with a leather scorpion stitched into the sides of the toe. But Dr. Paul? Pulling. It. Off.
After that, my echocardiogram was uninspiring. The technician was nice enough. But I wanted to grab a stethoscope and listen for a heart beat. He didn’t smile. Or change the tone of his voice. Or even look at me, now that I think about it. He did apologize for how hard he had to press the transducer into my chest. So that was nice.
I’ll get the results in about a week. Usually Des, from Dr. Paul’s office calls and tells me my ejection fraction. Come on, higher than 50!
Memories light the corners of my mind
Isn’t it funny how memory works? The other day, I could not for the life of me remember the word “exhibit.” I kept thinking, “Display? No. Show? No.” I finally had to get on The Google. I honestly love the internet. How else would I be able to uncover indistinguishable song lyrics? Or look up the meaning of a slang term? Or a zillion other things? Kudos to the people who conceived of this internet thingy. In case you haven’t heard, it’s really catching on. But I digress.
Then, in the car tonight, Zach and I were listening to a classic rock station. I could sing all the lyrics to “Bad Company” by Bad Company, “Nothing Else Matters” by Metallica and “Hit Me With Your Best Shot” by Pat Benatar, right down to the very last “Fire awaaaay-hay-hay!!”
I can’t remember the last time I heard at least two of those songs, but there they were — in trusty reserve just waiting to be joyfully belted, even if out of tune. I’m fascinated by how the mind works. Sometimes lately, I have a fleeting thought. And I know that if I don’t fully formulate the thought, it will be gone. But Pat Benatar is permanently stored on the hard drive? Whatever. Maybe one day I’ll kill it at karaoke.