"There have been some changes"

"There have been some changes"

These are not the words you want to hear when dealing with tumours.  Last year, at a routine eye check, a tumour was found in my eye.  After a crazy series of eye exams and photographs, we ended up at the Herzig Eye Clinic with a Retinal Surgeon, waiting to find out if I was going to lose my eye and have to wear a patch at our wedding.

That was last year.   Then we heard the comforting words that it didn't look like cancer, but they'd have to follow it annually.  Relief.  Relief.  Until today, when we were in the room with the technician who was taking high resolution photos of my dilated eye, and he said the dreaded words "There have been some changes".

This week, we got the news that an acquaintance had died.  She was 44, and we had met her a few times with one of our good friends in Newfoundland.  I am always astonished when people die young - somehow I think of it mathematically - 22 was her midpoint in life.  Two weeks ago were the last two weeks of her life, and then that was it.  Morbid, maybe, but also so perplexing, and surprising.

As many of you know, our lives over the past few months have been full of surprises and challenges.  As have all of our lives.  Things are constantly changing. 

Maybe I'm too much of a herding dog.  I like to check on my people - passively and actively - I like to know that all is well with us all.    And when we lose one of us, it is terrifying, it is close, and it is real.  Life is short and sweet and so precious.

As soon as we heard the words "There have been some changes", the two of us went to different places in our minds.  We had to leave that room and wait 45 minutes to see the Retinal Surgeon in a big waiting room.  I waited to hear if Twinkie had heard the same thing.  She had, and we both were shaking.  We had been told previously that certain "changes" meant cancer, and that means very quick removal of my eye.  And I'm kind of attached to my eyes. 

I said to Twinkie - if I'm losing my eye, we are going to Newfoundland before it happens, so that I can fill up on sights.  Twinkie was very quiet, but was frantically rubbing my back.  We sat together quietly.

We both wished we had benefits, and thought that we need to make that a priority.  We thought about life and the house - all the things that need to get done.  We thought about life insurance and was it enough.  We quietly cried a little.

My name was called - it always takes us a minute to realize it is my name because I took the name of my first husband on my health card, not the name of my first wife.  So the name is foreign and hard to own.  We went into the room.  The pictures of the tumour were on the computer screen.  Both of us became immediate experts and looked at the thing knowingly.  There it is, with all of the changes.

The doctor came in, said hello and sat down.  He looked at the photos and said - this can't be right.  He made a phone call to the technician and said to him - "Are these the right images?  Do you have the right measurements?  Are you sure?"   We sat staring at each other, soundless, our future changing as we waited.

When he got off the phone, he turned to face us.  "Sorry" he said "There have been some changes".  "Your tumour looks different than it did last year.  It looks a bit smaller.  These things don't get smaller, so either we made a mistake last year or our equipment is just better".  You could feel the tension lift.  Then he said "No change in colour, no fluid, so we are good to leave it for another year, make an appointment at the front desk."

Our surprise was that things remained the same.  This time we were the lucky ones.   We left the office knowing how lucky we are.  Got to the car and read the obituary of our 44 year old friend.  None of it makes sense.  Why are we so lucky and she was not.  I'm not proud to say that I am happy for this good fortune, but I'm also ... guilty and sad.  I am so sorry that anyone would be taken so early.  And there is nowhere to put that. 

It is unfair, it is unjust and it is the reality of this roulette wheel we are all so lucky to ride.  We stopped off at the library on the way home.  We got dvd's that will make us laugh, we got books of places that we want to visit, and places we want to visit again.  We got walking and hiking route books and books about challenges and things past and present.  Books about living and life.  Books that point us in the right direction.  Because today we heard "There have been some changes" and this time we were lucky and they were changes for the better.  And for us, and for our loved ones and our lives still to be lived and those who left too soon, we are deeply, lovingly grateful.