4 More Sleeps - a Time of Lasts

As I do things in these final days leading up to surgery, the phrase "this is the last time .... " keeps popping into my brain.  I force myself to modify the sentence to "this is the last time  .... for a while".   Some of those "lasts" I'm happy to give up for a while.  The last time I'll have to grocery shop, the last time I'll take the commuter train, the last time I have to tidy the house, the last time I have to wear a suit, the last time I have to do laundry ...

But mostly, this is my last day of work. 
 
Let me clarify that. The bank says I have to go back to work once I’m feeling better, so this is my last day of work before surgery.  I don’t work at the bank, but they have this thing about wanting me to pay my mortgage … go figure.

Work has been challenging.  The hospital where I first heard my diagnosis is close to work, so my appointment had been set for the middle of the morning.  Go to work, quick duck up to the specialist’s office to talk about what they’d found on my MRI, then back to work and on with my day.  That was the plan. Another day in the life.   That “day in the life” changed drastically when I heard the words “I’m referring you to a neurosurgeon”.  Neurosurgeon.  That’s a big word. A stunned walk out of the hospital, stop by SO’s office to break the news to him over coffee, then on to the office.  When I walked into my office my phone was ringing – the neurosurgeon’s office calling with details of my appointment. The following Monday.  Bring a family member. When the medical system moves that fast, something is seriously wrong.

Looking back, I have no idea how I got through that day or most of the following weeks.  Telling my boss and my staff that I got the phone call that no one wants to get. Mysteriously disappearing off to appointments before more than a handful of people knew what was up.  Reassigning responsibilities and wrapping up projects. It has been 9 weeks since I heard the term intramedullary ependymoma. Those first few weeks are a blur, and I can honestly say that beyond a few key moments, I don’t remember much.

I’m thankful for the supportive, helpful, positive and encouraging people at work who have put up with my spaced out, unfocused and dazed days. They know I’m not going to walk around and say goodbye, or make a production of my leaving, or - heaven forbid - hug anyone.  I’ll miss you and I know you’ll miss me.   I’ll see you in a few months.

Quietly exit stage left.