it's all about tomorrow.
tomorrow, we see the surgeon - at 1pm. i know that jane is nervous, i'm equally anxious. i think that jane has convinced herself that she is riddled with cancer, so i keep insisting - slow and steady. we'll take whatever comes and we'll work with it - i'm certain we'll assemble a great, proactive team who will treat jane aggressively (hopefully she won't need that) and kindly, with technical expertise.
upon jane's insistence, i do not join her for her mri, mid-afternoon. rather, i man the fort at home - snacks, homework, etc.. she's back relatively early, looking drained but calmly resigned in a certain way. i tease her about the mri, which i've been subjected to many times - this iss 'her first'. nothing quite as bizarre as that - open, closed, standup, sitdown, who knows? it's all complete insanity, with clanging, utter claustrophobia, and a strange sense that you exist outside of your own body.
we laugh hysterically, recounting an npr story we heard last summer (while meandering up to canada in the car) about a woman who wrote a book on surviving cancer. she recounts how the mri was truly the most horrible part of the experience - how her impression was that she was on gilligan's island, listening to the professor and maryanne converse with the natives by tapping on coconuts - one of the many sounds comprising this lovely diagnostic test.
[they roll her into the machine, face down, boobs hanging through two holes - almost like a massage, she notes (in which depraved location do they massage this way?). i had warned her - take xanax (my cure-all for everything!).]
we have a quick coffee in the living room, rolling our eyes in disbelief at it all ... jared gets picked up, i prep some dinner, and fly the coop - i have a meeting. when i get back, it's 10:30, and everyone is in bed - quick goodnight kisses to all, jane seems more relaxed and not tethered to the computer, which is good.
it's all about tomorrow ...
h
