Proof is in the pudding

So ends the first week of chemo and so begins a week of mystery. I still don't know where my place is in all this.

You know, I often wonder if this isn't all a big joke that the doctors are playing on him. Wouldn't it be nice if they just came out from behind the curtain and said, "Oh, our mistake. We misread all the tests and you are just fine!" Granted, that would really be a problem now that the first cycle of chemo has started, but still, the point stands.

I mean, no one can really see the cancer. We just take what the medical team says as scripture. The CT scans are off limits to us and we are relying on what the technicians say they have deciphered from those images. Same with the X-rays. That little white, nearly translucent blobby thing could either be a tumor or his appendix. What do we know?

I'm not explaining myself well. But it is very hard to get what is in my head onto paper without some translational glitches. I guess my point is, chemo aside, there are no outward signs of this disease to notice. He could have gone on for quite a while without a clue about the errant cells spreading through his body. And that scares me. What if my ovaries just up and rebel against me. No one would know.

But this isn't about me. I have to remember that and humble myself. I must reign in my wild imagination. This will be a good week.