My deep, deep thanks to you all for your good wishes and support. I'm really grateful for it, and eternally so, because it makes a difference in my life.
Despite the sleet and snow and icy roads, I made it into Manhattan on Thursday morning for my blood test. I wanted to get the damned thing over with, foul weather or not.
I have a deal with my endocrinologist. I may have mentioned this in an earlier post, but it still holds.
I told her I don't want to know the results of these tests unless I absolutely need to. My blood calcium level is a number. It's abstract. My state of mind and the way I feel physically are not.
I've had results before that indicated the cancer was gaining the upper hand. But mentally and physically, I felt fine -- until I was told those numbers.
I've also had results that have been good, all things considered, and I rode a wave of euphoria until the next test yielded discouraging numbers that brought this Icarus crashing back to earth.
So, unless it's a matter of urgency, unless I need to be given the results to explain the reason, say, for an increase in my medication, unless the results indicate that another surgery may need to be considered, I don't want to know.
I'm sick of fixating on numbers.
The only numbers I care about right now are Thursday's New Jersey Lottery results. (Ooops, gotta check my tickets.)