get the results of his most recent PET scan (the test that shows if there is any cancer
in your body). The place was packed and we were shuffled from place
to place, surrounded by an extraordinary number of people in the same boat.
Our favorite nurse, a sparky late 60s something, called us in from the waiting room and
took Andrew's vitals. "How's the belly-dancing going?' he joked with he. She laughed
and quipped back, "It the kinky sex that keeps me going." Their usual banter.
She dropped us off at the waiting area for the infusion room which
was standing room only. Ann our favorite nurse there, flushed out Andrew's
port, took a blood sample, and put us in an examination room to wait for
Dr. G. Twenty minutes later his physicians assistant came in to do the
pre-game warm up -- listened to his lungs, asked a few questions.
When she left we we're both getting impatient. We had read all the magazines worth
reading (drew the line at Golf Digest) and we'd been there close to an hour
and a half. . . Final the door flew open and our lovely Dr. G. blew in. "So good to see you both."
he said warmly as he grabbed a hand shake from each of us.
He started talking about how we'd see him every three months from now on.
A few sentences later we realized that he wasn't talking about more treatment.
We gave each other the look --"Did he forget to fill us in on something?"
He realized at the same time that we didn't know what was going on.
"Nobody told you about the results of your PET scan yet have they?" We
both just shook our heads. "Well the news is very good--- no sign of cancer--
we'll just have to keep an eye on you from now on." We both looked at
each other incredulously. Was he saying what we thought he was saying?
Then he used the remission word. Sure enough he was!
Holy mackeral!!! Success!! It was so unexpected, that we both didn't know
what to do with that information. I went from smiling to laughing to crying
in five minutes. "Wow! wow, wow , wow, wow . . ." That's all I could say.
In Andrew's typical fashion, he just carried on, "Well I got to go teach school
now. . . " We left the office and I kissed him goodbye and I swear
he felt different-- more solid, more real, definitely more permanent.
It was pouring rain that day, but when I got home I immediately went
to the back yard to thank my PVM (personal Virgin Mary) who I had asked
for back up the day before. "Good work" I told her as I petted her hands
and head, "Damn good work."