Icy Winter Morning
Image by Steve Pajewski
It was still dark outside. The biting wind cut through my attempts to shield myself. I was on my way to the hospital for yet another surgery. I tried to suppress the feeling of apprehension about what lay ahead. My husband and I didn’t speak much that morning; at such times light conversation feels trivial and weightier matters have already absorbed all the words one could spend on them.
Around the same time that we headed toward the city, an airplane was carrying a medical sample to a distant laboratory. The scheduled tests would determine the course of action in my near future. In the past, if a tumor was above a certain size, chemotherapy was automatically on the menu. Now, tests can not only predict the likelihood that a cancer will return or spread, but can also determine if chemo will help prevent recurrence, or only make you sick and hairless.
At the hospital everyone was kind and gracious to us. By now the steps were familiar: the paperwork and procedures, the ever-present covid questions. Various practitioners of various medical specialties stepped into my life for a brief period of time, then went about the rest of their day. I don’t remember all their names or faces, but I am grateful for the care they provided.
As for the parcel that was on the airplane, I can only imagine what its journey was like. To those who were not aware of its contents, it was just another package. When it got to the lab its purpose became known. I wonder: once a researcher has tested many hundreds or thousands of tumors, does it just become another routine series of steps, another day at the office? Do they ever stop to remember what it was that inspired them to pursue this calling? Possibly they have to protect their own hearts by not dwelling on the idea that the number or barcode on a sample represents a person who is going through the unimaginable.
That day, I came through my procedure successfully. While I am extremely thankful for the expertise of my medical professionals and my clean bill of health, on that chilly morning I felt I had been cheated just a little bit: I had to remain in the icy cold northeast, and the tumor, that alien invader that had been wreaking havoc in my world, had gotten an all expense paid trip to California!