Ox Fall Down

Scan on an empty stomach. No stomach distension. If it's empty it's as far back from the tumor as it can be. Surgery and radiation are both easier with good margins.

Joanne brings me into the scan room. Shoes off. Black socks and a thin cotton robe. Bright, sterile room. Chinese dragon hanging in the corner. IV set in the right forearm. Away from the flexible elbow.

Delaney enters in OR scrubs. Oh, are they? He'll read the scan tonight or tomorrow am. No rush. Radiation is on hold. Probably finished unless used during surgery.

First scan with IV contrast. Nancy and Joanne push and pull you into alignment. Joanne didn't watch the Patriots game. Her friend from Florida called with the score. Nancy read all of Mystic River on Sunday. She used to read a lot when she was young. But now, with kids and work, who has time to read anymore? She read all the Bond novels. One a day. In high school she used to hide them behind her text books and read in class. Second scan with sodium bicarbonate. Effervescence for more contrast. A packet of pop-rocks washed down with an ounce of water. Joanne insists, "Don't burp." You suddenly want to. Final scan lying on the stomach.

Done. Tired and thirsty. Waiting for Rob to drive up to NH. Home after a month and a half of treatment. I think the technical term for what I'm feeling is, "Yee-haw."