Thoughts in a Tube

I experienced half an hour of forced seclusion yesterday morning while undergoing an MRI of my brain. They found nothing. ;-)

It's interesting the thoughts that go through your mind when you're placed into a situation like that. (Note to the PianoLady: I took the soundtrack from "Wicked" 'cause I couldn't find "Light in the Piazza" as I was walking out of the house at 6:00 a.m. "Wicked" was perfect for the occasion — just enough stridency to offset the loud clicking and whirring and knocking of the MRI machine.)

As I was lying there, I thought back to life before all these machines were developed. Both CT scan and MRI machines were introduced in the 70s. Before the invention of all these marvelous machines, diagnosticians' hands were frequently tied by a lack of clear, definitive information. Now, doctors can know very quickly of changes to almost any part of the body. As a result, life expectancies are increasing with each passing year. The ramifications are far-reaching: witness the "sandwich generation" who must care for both their children and their parents.

My mother is 93 years old, my mother-in-law is 99. My MIL doesn't enjoy her life and has wished, for at least ten years, to be done here. My mother, on the other hand, seems to enjoy each day. She still drives, she needs no help taking care of herself. She has outlived one [younger] sister and is in far better health than the two remaining [younger] sisters. I'm only related to her by law, so thank God I don't have to say "those longevity genes are going to keep me around."

Quite frankly, I don't want to live to my 90s. I'm not sure I want to live to my 80s. My life has been challenging. There have been far more difficulties than joys. How many total difficulties must one endure before enough is enough? I frequently think that I would like to learn whatever lesson I've got to learn so I can check out.

Of course, as I say that my grandbabies come to mind, and I think how much I'm enjoying watching them grow up. And that makes me want to live forever. Is that the purpose of children and grandchildren? To make one want to continue despite the difficulties.

But to bring this whole discussion back to dating over 50: About two hours after I got back to the office I had a voicemail from my doctor's office. The lab tech had already told me that the doctor would have the results in about 48 hours. And the call was not from my doctor; from the on-call doctor. She left a voicemail on my office phone saying she was trying to reach me. Then she left a message on my cell saying she had received the test results and needed follow-up. I immediately called back and she was in with a patient so I had to leave a message and wait for her return call. For the next twenty minutes, my mind raced. Was it cancer? Was it a brain tumor? What if I couldn't work, how would I pay my many mortgages? Would I lose my job? Would I lose my home? Who would care for me? My children are leaving; what's going to happen to me?

Trust me, if jumping to conclusions ever becomes an Olympic event, I'm a gold medal winner!

Someone in a committed long-term relationship or marriage at least knows she has someone to turn to. She may not know the quality of care that her S.O. will provide, or whether the care will be willingly and/or lovingly provided, but she knows she has someone to turn to.

During the twenty minutes of panic, I pinged my buddy in the next office, who has had significant health issues of his own over the years, and told him what was happening. He quickly [and correctly] said, "it's probably nothing." And I pinged the Gardener and said, "I'm scared. I'll call you when I know more." I don't know if I scared the bejeebies out of him, but I appreciated having him far enough into my life that I could reach out to him that way. When I had finally heard from the doctor and called him, he was wonderfully supportive. Most of all, he was there.

That's a pretty spectacular quality in a man: to be there.

P.S. It's a 3cm incidence of fibrous dysplasia, which is always benign. I was diagnosed with fibrous dysplasia in 1997, during John's illness. It's no big deal, so I forget to mention it to doctors unless specifically asked. It's still there and I'll take the films from the diagnosis so the doctor can compare it to yesterday's films. No big deal. Thanks for asking. ;-)