When I was younger, my overwhelming excitement at the thought of Christmas usually left me lying awake all night long Christmas Eve, so excited I could hardly stand it. After months of studying in detail the Sears Catalog, I would wonder in giddy fits of glee which of the amazing Star Wars action figures sat, waiting under the tree for me. I think one year I got myself so worked up that I actually broke into a fever and started hallucinating. Thankfully I calmed down in my later years, and now get a pretty decent sleep that night.
But not tonight. Tonight, I will not sleep well — and, unfortunately, it will not be due to the anticipation of the latest x-wing fighter. No, I will not sleep well tonight because tomorrow is “MRI Day”. Granted, by the time most of you read this, the MRI will have come and gone (it’s scheduled for around 8:15am on Tuesday). And as soon as I know any results, I’ll post them. However, at this moment, tomorrow could be a great day — or Father’s Day 2005 all over again.
I wonder how I will do this whole “survivorship” thing. It’s the ultimate in cruel and unusual punishment: we can try to return to a normal life, but we need to do it knowing that, at any moment, we could once again have the rug torn out from under us. My mind has already begun the natural tendency of bargaining and denial with thoughts like:
1. “Tomorrow’s MRI will be fine — after all, we’re just a couple of weeks away from his last chemo dose! Rest, relax, and don’t worry.”
2. “Tomorrow’s MRI will be fine — but January? Dude, I’d be REALLY worried about that one….”
And the night before begins.