Today's the day Joe has his we-hope final PET scan. We haven't talked about this very much, if at all, beyond the two of us, since the very thought that they'll find something throws us both into a whirl of despair. And we've been trying to enjoy the springtime and Joe's recovery from the chemo and return to his old self instead.
They'll be looking to see if the spot on his right tonsil that still showed up on the PET scan three months ago -- meaning it was resisting the chemo -- is still there. An ultrasound since then didn't provide too clear a picture. Despite the oncologist's assurance that it will be gone, we're on pins and needles waiting to know.
Waiting to know if we're done. If the shadow's gone now, if we can fully emerge out from under this and move on.
OK, so if they find something, then Joe will be scheduled for a tonsillectomy, since they'll need the tonsils in order to biopsy the Something and figure out what it is.
If they find nothing, then the party is On.
I'm voting for Party. But am braced for anything. And will make the best of leaving work early today to drive Joe to his appointment, read in the waiting room, drive him, glowing with radiation and avoiding pregnant women and babies, home again.