Doctors
My CT scan with contrast to check on my abdominal aortic aneurysm went off without a hitch yesterday. Of course, I won’t know what it revealed until the doctor calls. He’ll get the results today. On my last ultrasound, four months ago, the aneurysm had grown to 5 cm and 5.5 is the point where they start talking about surgical repair. The doctor told me the CT would give him the best idea of how to proceed.
The pits about all this is that I’m in no pain. Nothing hurts because of the aneurysm. And I won’t hurt until I have the surgery. Then I’ll hurt. Which means the hurting won’t relieve any pain as is in knee or hip surgery. It will just be a reminder that they fixed something that could have killed me. That’s a good thing, I suppose, although it’s simply a delay of the inevitable. Still, I enjoy living and I’ll take any reasonable opportunity to extend my stay upon this green earth.
I have noticed, however, a sort of fatalism has crept into my every day thinking. Yesterday, I spent most of the morning thinking about the CT scan, particularly the contrast, which is iodine. I recalled that my father once had a reaction to it, and I wondered if I’d have a reaction and if I did could they save me. And then I thought they probably would save me, but if today was my day, okay. So, I was relaxed when the iodine hit my system in a warm flush while the machine whirled and whirred. Then, when it was over, I did a slow walk into the afternoon sunshine and felt good about the rest of the day.
John W. Wilson is the author of The Long Goodbye: A Caregiver's Tale