[cancer|child] Playing Russian roulette with Schrödinger's tumor

Today I am off to play Russian roulette with Schrödinger's tumor. Schrödinger's tumor would, of course, be the previously identified but uncharacterized lesion in my right hepatic lobe which we will carefully observe today via bloodwork and CT scan. Much like the cat in the box, the act of observation will resolve its state.

Mind you, my quanta are not in danger of collapse. The metaphor only stretches so far, after all. This is the nature of metaphors. Unfortunately I can't say the same for my emotional processes.

From a writing perspective, I have been useless since last Thursday. This is as discussed. Unfortunate but not surprising, and not ultimately damaging to my productivity or deadlines. Mostly it wounds my pride.

From a life perspective, I'd resolved after my meltdown of the weekend before last that this past week would be a time where I didn't make any major life decisions and didn't engage in any difficult emotional terrain. Unfortunately, not everyone around me got the memo. So there was a fair amount of static from various quarters in a week when my emotional radio was particularly ill-tuned.

From a parenting perspective, everything got very difficult last night. I'd just come back from a long, early dinner with mlerules at Ken's Artisan Pizza. (Mmm. Not the best gourmet pizza in town, but still pretty darned good.) the_child and her mother had just come back from a party celebrating the life of her friend's mother who'd passed away of cancer about this time last year. She popped into my half of Nuevo Rancho Lake and began asking me some very direct, mature questions about my cancer status, what I expected from today's scan and Wednesday's oncology appointments, when I expected I might die and how the cancer would actually kill me. We then talked about her thoughts about what she would do for herself if I passed away of this in the next few years.

It was a sensible, thoughtful and loving conversation. It broke my heart all over again to have this conversation with my fourteen year old daughter.

Today, the scans. My friend A— is taking me. Wednesday, the oncology follow-ups. lizzyshannon is taking me if she's sufficiently recovered from her recent surgical adventures. Things being the way they are with my hospital, I'll likely know both the bloodwork results and the scan results sometime tomorrow.

Then we'll see if I'm back in hell for another year, or if I get a few more month's reprieve. And we'll know a bit more about how to answer the_child's question of when I am going to die.

I am so afraid.