2005-05-17 @ 11:45 p.m.

i am sitting in the reception area of the medical imaging department of the hospital yesterday when the boy comes tearing around the corner. looking frantic. my lips break into a smile despite my best intentions. he is looking for me. he is hoping i havent gone in yet. me. i cant read. i cant concentrate. i am a lost cause. i am off in space. i am occassionally looking over at the guy sitting on the other wall who is on the college basketball team and whom i have photographed a thousand times. my eyes move to the man on crutches. and then to the middle aged man directly in front of me. i am picking up and immediately putting back down magazines. even the newspaper. finding nothing worthwhile. so i sit. and i drift. i am spinning and fiddling and hoping for it to be over. thats when he came flying around the corner. i didnt expect him to be there. so many fights and still so much distance. and he was busy. and that morning we left the house arguing. but he knew what day it was. and he sat next to me and entertained me with his cartoon stories while i waited. pleasant much needed moments.

until chris came to get me. this man i met once months ago. by accident. when i was at the hospital for an assignment for work. who recognized my last name when i introduced myself. he grew up with my mother. more good moments.

i ask a lot of questions. thats part of my nature anyway. but he is kind. and he explains to me everything we are doing. some people prefer not to know. but i need to know. it brings much comfort to me when i am as informed as i can be. when the ones in charge take the time to explain things to me.

several minutes later his voice is coming through the tinny speaker in the cold sterile room as i slip into the donut shaped machine. i am laying on my back with my arms straight above my head. theres an iv in my left arm. theres a forming bruise on my right arm where he missed the vein.

big deep breath...and hold it

im concentrating on the movement i can barely make out just above me on the other side of a black skinny window on the interior of the donut. its the xray tube. its spinning and sputtering around me. i can hear it taking pictures. for a second the irony shoots through my mind.

and you can breathe

chris comes back from the other side of the glass wall. where he watches me. and watches the computer screen. he comes to tell me what i should and shouldnt feel in this next step. its now that i notice that my pains, as unpredictable as they are and although very slight right now, are actually happening while im here.

and again.

big deep breath...and hold it

im concentrating on not breathing. laying still. this time im feeling the warm liquid rushing into my arm through the iv. my whole body is instantly warm. he told me this might happen. wierd is not even adequate to describe the feeling.

and you can breathe

i am on the verge of tears for a minute when i let out my breath. im not sure whats going on. i know that a little over two years ago my mother went through this alone. and this donut machine is what found her cancer. and even though im here for different reasons. its so foreign and im tearing up.

i think i am glad that i have someone in the waiting room.

big deep breath...and hold it

my ribcage is moving this time and im trying to stop before i hear the whirr of the tube. i dont think i do. and one more run through. thats four. i think of my neice. my mother. and my boy. i am scared of what this all means. what it means that i have chest pains that are getting more frequent and more severe and that i am laying on a board in a grey hospital gown with my arms above my head and an iv in my left arm. getting a ct scan of my chest.

i am scared and thankful at the same time.

and you can breathe