My CAT Scan (Computerized Axial Tomography or CT Scan) was performed on Friday – pelvis, abdominal and a chest x-ray. The man-nurse told us it was just because we were new patients and the doctor liked doing chest x-rays on new patients, but we’d done our research.

They were checking to see if the cancer had spread…..

I hate needles. I hate needles more than anything. I would first eat mashed potatoes from between a homeless man’s buttcheeks using only my mouth and tongue as silverware than take a needle in my own. I would rather shoot a shotglass of footsweat than “just feel a little stick”. I would rather fall down a flight of stairs blindfolded than to lay my eyes on one of those thin sliver needles…..SYRINGES. Ug. Just THINKING the word makes my toes wiggle.

Anyway, I digress. Last week they gave me powdered Barium. This is the stuff you drink and it lights your insides up like a Christmas tree in the CT scan. I have to drink 64 oz. of this radioactive potion before my appointment.

My wife says they probably won’t have to “stick me” since I’d been drinking the Berry-Yum. This pleases me….I hate needles.

I show up and the first thing the man-nurse says is, “Ok, we’re gonna get ya hooked up with a chest X-ray, then we’re gonna plug ya into an IV real quick and do a Cat Scan.

My day just dropped from around a possible 4/10, to about a 2/10. An EYE-VEE!!!??? Those things are like the giraffes of needles. The mother brain of pain.
I ask the doctor if there’s a bathroom around and he points me off down the hallway.

I tell him I’ll be right back. I tell him I’ve just got to go have a quick panic attack.

They poke me. They scan me. They X-ray me (not in that order) and then we go eat pancakes at IHOP.

My day has just gone up to a 3/10.

Now we wait all weekend to see the results. How is my cancer? Has it spread? Lung cancer? Stomach cancer? Liver cancer? Has it gone to my lymph nodes? Will I die in six months? If it’s spread what is my chance of survival? Research tells us that depending on what it is, it could be anywhere from 30% – 93%.
It rests on our minds all weekend, but we push it back by playing mini-golf.

Monday I take a half day and we drive to the urologist.

He tells us that I have Stage 1 cancer. That’s Stage 1 of 3.

He tells us it hasn’t spread.

He tells us it’s all good news.

My day is a 10/10.

I walk out of the doctor’s office and hug my wife.

Today is not my day to die.

We posted a while ago telling everyone we’d postponed the shoot. We said that maybe later on we’d be able to look back and go, “HEY!…It really WAS better that we didn’t do it late September.”

There ya go. Shooting a film and dealing with this at the same time would have been disastrous.

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