today . . .

I hate sitting in this place waiting. It makes my mind wander. Fully 50% of the people meandering around this building . . . those not employed by Moffitt . . . are cancer patients. Most of the other half are relatives, friends, neighbors. My eyes automatically drop to each couples wrists to see who wears the white, hospital dispensed, badge of courage and who does not.

Walking in, we are greeted by the phalanx 0f wheel chairs . . . as if a mere one or two will not suffice. A painful reminder of the ravages of the disease. The lobby smells of nothing. Another reminder that the needs of oversensitive noses are being taken care of.

It is cold since it is easier to add layers to keep warm then to cool off when too hot. Nauseated stomachs can be sensitive to too much heat.

I feel guilty here. For my health. Because so far, I have escaped its clutches. I see it on the faces of other spouses.

I check my watch a lot. To see how long before I get him back. Although the PET scan itself is relatively short, the prep work takes a long time. Total: 3 hours. I brought lots to occupy myself.

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We are home. The news was not as good as we expected. There are two more spots on the right side of his chest. Not on the surface, but not in or on the lung either. This was just the preliminary finding. The Amazing Dr. Z will call us on Wednesday after the definitive results of the PET are in and the board has met with their recommendations. Friday we go back over for a brain scan . . . it's just a precaution.

We are tired. It was not such a very good day in the cave. Tomorrow will be better. Yes. Yes, it will.