All I can think of is tomorrow. Tomorrow is Monday, and Mike and I will be traveling to Morgantown, to the medical complex, to begin a week of appointments and procedures that will largely determine our future.
It all starts with a Covid test. Ruby Memorial requires the test and it can't be more than 72 hours prior to whatever procedure the patient is scheduled for. Nor can it be a rapid test. Doesn't matter if you live 200 miles away. Doesn't matter if you've been vaccinated. I get that they're being safe and careful and all that, but it's not easy being sick during a plague.
So first things first. Covid test on Monday. Tuesday is a free day. Except it isn't exactly free since we're staying in a hotel and eating restaurant food. Wednesday is the endoscopic ultrasound, which will confirm the site and size of the lesion growing in his esophagus. More sensitive than the PET scan (which showed no metastasis nor a tumor, but we're going with the pathology report on the biopsy), the ultrasound will also help his doctors determine if some kind of surgical intervention should be done prior to the start of chemo.
Thursday is the surgeon's appointment, again at WVU, and we can return home following that. He has an oncologist's appointment on Friday in Beckley – only an hour away, instead of five.
Today. Get back to today. Stay in today. Next week will take care of itself. Today I need to clean, pack, do some laundry. We'll go to church this morning and maybe walk this afternoon. Or maybe not.
I made a commitment to my cousins to send them copies of a book our Aunt Minerva wrote – stories about her childhood as the oldest of five sisters. The last story in the book is the one in which my father is born. I was going to copy the pages, but I think I'll retype the whole thing – all 107 pages! – and soak all those stories in again.
I can begin typing today.
Today. Stay present.
No comments:
Post a Comment