Surreality

Well, I don't even know what to say about the last 48 hours, except how completely surreal the whole weekend has been!  I finally got the phone call back from the radiation oncologist about my radiation simulation being ready, and I was on the schedule for radiation last Friday, at 3pm.  Ok, good, I thought.  Now some arm and neck burning might be improved, you never know.

Chip dropped me at the hospital and I found my way to the lovely basement in time to be swept up by three lovely techs who talked me through the mask refitting, the two scans I would have done and then the two treatments I would proceed to get.  "OK", I said glibly.  I mean, what else is there to say, really?  Hannibal seemed to stay out of the room amidst the kind, grinning faces, but then I was locked down under the white mesh, and I had already forgotten how tight the thing is.  I couldn't swallow without discomfort, and that freaked me out just the littlest bit, but I just kept my eyes closed. The other thing is that you can't really talk, so there is a kind of sign language they use to help them know if you are in trouble.  This is what you do: you wave your arms.  A lot.  Wave, wave, wave.  I kept my eyes shut.  Here is what the lovely mesh looks like:

Doesn't look so bad, but it is hard and right on top of your face, so you can't really see or move your mouth or nose or anything.  I made it through about 45 mins in the mask, and then ran outside to suck some air down and burst into tears for a minute or two.  Very, very disturbing, but let's hope it is helpful!  I couldn't really feel anything, but I could hear just the smallest crinkling sounds going around my head.....hopefully the machine was not shorting out, but shooting radiation into masses and avoiding vital structures.  This is what I will believe.

Ok, then it was about 4pm, time to go home, take a shower, get all gussied up and to our Medical School Alumni Dinner where it was my 25th med school reunion and I was being awarded an alumni service award.  Can I just say out loud, "OH MY GOD, SHUT UP!!!!  or something kind of like that.  But here's the thing.  The dinner was wonderful.  So many of my fabulous, wonderful classmates returned to enjoy the night and talk and dance and eat.  THe picture at the top is one of my  crazy classmates dressed up as Captain America, who with his sidekick and our other classmate, Wonder Woman, MC'd the gala banquet and awards ceremony.....hysterically!!

And, and , and, my most adorable, sweet, devoted husband introduced me for my award.  He didn't tell me he was doing that.  He didn't tell me he invited friends to see me receive this award.  He did such a kind, lovely job it was all I could do not to weep uncontrollably on my way to hug him.  I believe what he did was truly  the kindest thing that has ever happened to me, ever.  Ever.  What a win.  How is it that there was this evening to balance all the crap and scariness and sadness of what is going on in our lives together?  Just how does that work?  It seems to happen often--there must be some cosmic teeter-totter still helping me maintain my upright posture just when I think it is no longer possible.

The next day, I believe I had a bit of a side effect from the radiation as the other side of my neck began to burn, burn, burn.  Got some relief with more drugs and then got ready for our 25th med school individual dinner at the Ritz.  This dinner was such a tribute to our medical school for attracting some of the most truly remarkable, funny, smart, thoughtful, caring, insouciant , intoxicating, hilarious, loving people I have forgotten that I loved so much!  Just the whole dinner conversation about what we all do and who we are sleeping with was enough to keep the gales of laughter going.  What a class, and what a joy to be part of it.

Now a day later, having begun to wrap our arms around a tragedy that occurred in our midst, the death of our dear classmates' fiancé Sunday morning, the tributes to our classmate and the warmth and love they so clearly shared all weekend come pouring in.  And yes, we are doctors, and we do understand the fleeting nature of health and I think as we all come into our 50s + we also recognize how fragile we are, and how beautiful.  Watching our classmate and her fiancé last night was beautiful; we will not soon forget it, and we will wrap our long arms firmly around her and walk with her as she goes forward .  Not sure where that cosmic balance is here, however,.

What a weekend
I am so sad, but so full and so entirely grateful to be part of the most amazing medical school class that has every existed.
love all of you

how about some poetry:

Sight (WS Merwin)

Once
a single cell
found that it was full of light
and for the first time there was seeing

when
I was a bird
I could see where the stars had turned
and I set out on my journey

high
in the head of a mountain goat
I could see across a valley
under the shining trees something moving

deep
in the green sea
i saw two sides of the water
and swam between the

I
look at you
in the first light of the morning
for as long as I can


Science (Ursula LeGuin)

What little we have ever understood
is like an offering we make beside the sea.
It is pure worship when pursued
as its own end, to find out. Mystery,
the undiminishable silent flood,
stretches on out from where we pray
round the clear altar flame. The god
accepts the sacrifice and turns away.