"I don't want to scare you..."

   The New Year started with a cold, which morphed into pneumonia.  X-rays and  CT confirmed the diagnosis, so I was given antibiotics.  I would need to get another X-ray in a month.  This follow-up X-ray occurred on the last Friday of February.  The first Monday of March there was a message from my family doctor.  He wanted  me to go for another CT scan.

     Another CT scan.   My last scan was a mere two months ago.  I figured they were concerned about the slightly enlarged lymph nodes in my chest.  A call to the family doctor should clarify this, I thought.   Unfortunately it wasn't the lymph nodes, and Wednesday morning found me sitting in another exam room being informed of his concerns:  there was a small mass in my chest.

    This wasn't news to me, as it had been noticed on the prior X-rays, and was always assumed that it was pneumonia.   However considerable time has passed since that original diagnosis.  Now this disconcerting  X-ray has my family doctor concerned.   I  felt fine,  and relatively unconcerned.  That is until he said those words:  "I don't want to scare you...".  Uh oh...

   Actually I left the office more depressed than scared; I wouldn't be scared until I started doing internet searches.   I should have remembered:  when you have an unknown medical condition Don't Search The Web.  My family doctor's worrying was more that just a conversation, he contacted my oncologist personally to express those concerns.   So it wasn't a surprise when the call came from the oncologist's office:  I had an appointment booked for April 1st.  I would need to have my usual blood work a couple of weeks before that.  I hadn't expected to see the oncologist for another four months, and that only added to my concerns.   Now I was getting scared.

   So for a few days I tried to not surf the web for  'Lung cancers & other terrible diseases'.   My dad had died of lung cancer, but I never had his three-pack-a-day habit.  Nor did I ever work in Asbestos or Uranium mines like he once did.   Thus I firmly embraced my family doctor's thoughts that it might 'simply' be scar tissue.  Not sure what kind of atmosphere I'm breathing to cause that effect however.

  Eventually the concern subsided and I resumed my normal, humdrum boring life.   I  went to work.  I puttered with my hobbies.   Sometimes I would catch myself taking extra-deep breaths, as if somehow the inability to completely fill my lungs was a symptom of some horrible condition.  My fears gradually faded, and I stopped obsessing, remembered  that I felt fine, and was not  in any pain (actually my left shin was bothering me but I figured it's only my arthritis).  If there's a problem I'll find out soon enough.

  The remainder of March would find me getting poked by the vampire crews at the local lab and cancer centre.  Getting prescription refills for the cholesterol and arthritis medications I take daily, fulfilling the boring medical stuff of my life.  My calendar has  shifted from the Julian to the Caduceus manner of reckoning.

   April will be no less busy.  Besides the visit with the oncologist to determine what they'll do about my chest, there's an upcoming colonoscopy.   Even though it's my fifth such procedure (and my  seventh time going through 'The Prep') it's not something I look forward too.  But it's part of my process now,  and something necessary for my continued well-being.   I'll just have to adopt that same philosophy for whatever procedure my oncologist deems necessary for my lung examination.  Likely it's going to involve another tube going taking the scenic route through my body.  I'm sure I'll have something to write about after that experience.