I’m stuck in limbo land today. Blame the holiday. Blame the weather. Blame my head making up scenarios for a dark sit-com. I am waiting for the other shoe to fall. Yes, it’s scanxiety setting in. Again.
In November, I was released from my three-month sentence in the brain tumor department, but now it’s time for a CT scan from the neck to the pelvis.
January 17. Two weeks of considering what the radiologist report to my doctor will reveal. It weighs on my mind.
I was doing fine until Tony. Tony Bender was my friend, my cohort, and my competition in the personal column contest sponsored by the North Dakota Newspaper Association. Then he died. It was unexpected.
On Nov. 20, he commented on my new Facebook profile picture. On Nov. 23, he was gone. I was heartbroken. And shocked.
When I began chemo in March 2023, I saw Tony at the infusion center. Because cancer and treatment are sometimes so very personal, I did not approach him on the fourth floor of the Sanford Cancer Center. It was obvious why he was there. I waited.
Later, I messaged him and we talked about cancer and treatment. I thought he was doing well.
We competed in many categories in these newspaper contests because our papers had a similar number of subscribers. While I won many photo awards, story awards and personal column awards, it seems that I could never overtake Tony’s humor and wit when it came to entertaining readers with personal opinions and stories.
To put it bluntly, I was envious of his writing talent.
One of the greatest compliments in my writing career (I have two now) came from a blog post on August 28, 2023, that began with this simple sentence.
“Without opening my eyes, my first conscious thought was, ‘I have lung cancer.’”
It was the beginning of my exposure to a wider audience. I began to share my cancer story as a way of letting it go.
Tony shared the post and said something like, “This is the best blog post about cancer ever written.” (Maybe I exaggerated that comment, but his Facebook site is now inactive and there’s no way of finding out for sure.)
It was the greatest compliment ever. I sent him a message to thank him and he said, “You deserve it. It was well written.”
His followers took it to heart and became my followers.
And, now he is gone. One day he was here, the next he was gone. I am not sure why, or maybe I am sure why, it hit me so hard. It seems like just when you are doing well with cancer, the other shoe drops.
An idiom all too appropriate for my friends with cancer.
In case you are not familiar with an idiom, Wikipedia says, “An idiom is a phrase or expression that largely or exclusively carries a figurative or non-literal meaning, rather than making any literal sense. Categorized as formulaic language, an idiomatic expression’s meaning is different from the literal meanings of each word inside it.”
Now, for all you youngsters out there, an example from dictionary.com, “Await a seemingly inevitable event, as in ‘Now that she has a good enough job to leave her husband, we’re just waiting for the other shoe to drop.’ This expression alludes to a person awakened by a neighbor who loudly dropped one shoe on the floor and is waiting for the second shoe to be dropped. [Early 1900s]”
Obviously, words and meanings and blog posts are some of my ways to deal with the upcoming CT scan and the scanxiety I feel for a couple weeks before the dreaded radiology report posts on MyChart. Before the age of smart phones, I carried a little orange dictionary in my purse.
I like words, but I am counting on the power of prayer. I also need some grace. I’ll never be a Jeopardy contestant because while I can see the answer in my head, it never gets out of my mouth.
Besides the chemo pill and its effect on my memory, my mind is preoccupied with keeping my head above water as my journey continues. If that idiom escapes you, Google it. I have a dental appointment.
INDYchildrendotme 
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