Interlude: God & I

As I wrote that title, I was struck by "God & I" versus "God & Me."  For some reason, the "I" strikes me as so much more egotistical than "Me", almost as if the first statement is one of equivalence, but the latter is one of overfamiliarity.  Off the subject...

So I have thus far singularly failed to mention God or faith or prayer or anything really important.  There are two things on my mind today; praying in Latin and my relation to God relative to suffering.

Earlier today (on Facebook) a friend asked me how I wanted him to pray for me.  I jokingly replied "anything is fine, as long as it's in Latin."  The little emoticon wink should have made it clear that this was tongue in cheek.  But a couple of weeks ago, Elizabeth asked me why I pray the rosary in Latin.  Actually, I pray the first, third, and fifth decades in Latin.  The Creed, opening prayers, and closing prayers I pray in English.  My reason for this is that I feel the Latin unites me to the universal church, in a diachronic sense, whereas the English is easier for me to "mean" rather than just recite.  Now, anyone familiar with the Rosary will be familiar with the formulaic nature, which one hopes becomes meditation rather than just repetition.  I'll admit that my mind wanders tremendously during the Rosary (in all the decades and for all the mysteries).  I hope that this is still a means of communicating with God - laying my problems before him, where the actual prayers are those of adoration and supplication.  But as Peter Kreeft notoriously said - pray how you can, not how you can't.  Praying the rosary is one of the ways that I can pray.

Back to Latin.  I noted above that Latin unites me with the Church diachronically - or across time.  Pope Benedict XVI wrote beautifully on the two modes of unity with the Church - both synchronic - or united with the Church in this time, and diachronic.  We should remember that the communion of the Church is not just the faithful now, but all the faithful, past and present (and future?  I suppose so).  I like to imagine the vast crowd of saints who are present at the Eucharist, and when I am really humming along in my spiritual life, I feel their presence along with the Real Presence of Christ.

But I recognize that Latin is not my language, and that there's nothing "magic" about Latin.  Prayers are not more efficacious in Latin than in English.  And in fact Latin can be an obstacle.  I know the words to Salve Regina.  But I know what Hail, Holy Queen means.  But when I pray the two, I feel the sacredness of Salve Regina.  But I intend Hail, Holy Queen.  So for me, there is a place for both Latin and English.

Well, I'm tired of typing, so I'll leave the issue of God, prayer, and suffering for another interlude.

Diagnosis +16

So today was the dreaded ultrasound.  Yesterday featured the beginning of "prep" for the EUS exam, which consisted of a delicious laxative which I enjoyed over ice.

I won't describe what was in the "Fleet" box, nor the various horrible connotations of the box's contents.  But no matter how bad it is in your imagination, the reality was worse!

So after a "light diet" yesterday, and a long night, it was off this morning at 6am to my new favorite place - the GI center on Weisgarber, where I matriculated with a class full of other probees, all looking appropriately glum.

The nurses & prep staff were all quite pleasant - it was a different crew than was there for the last exam, leading me to conclude through my excellent deductive reasoning that there are different sets of staff for the different types of exam.  I plead with the anesthesiologist to give me Versed instead of Propofol, but nothing doing.   I got the dang ol' Michael Jackson drug again.

When I woke up, Elizabeth was being brought back to the recovery area.  I resisted the urge to belt out a selection of Javert's songs from Les Miserables, sparing the staff (and Elizabeth).  I continued to answer "single malt scotch" when they asked me if I wanted something to drink.  Which might have been funny last time but didn't bring in the guffaws I was hoping for.

They didn't want me to take a picture lying there on the gurney, but I snapped this awesome selfie in the changing room:

Anyway, the upshot is that the tumor has grown into the wall, and there is some indication that it is into a lymph node, which is not too good.  This means that the course of radiation and chemo will have to precede surgery.  The good news is that the tumor hasn't gotten into any other organs (bladder, prostate, etc.).

Now for a day of "rest" and a night of heavy drinking.  I'll take that single malt scotch now!

Diagnosis +14

Today I encountered the MRI machine - which I have been in before (broken shoulder).  I think I fell asleep last time, thanks to the warm blanket and the fact that I was really, really tired.  Anyway, this time around I didn't fall asleep.  I've renamed the MRI machine "The Mysterious Tube of Annoying Noises."  Being in the MRI machine was like being locked in a closet with Jackson for 30 minutes.

No further information, except that today was the final day of my novena for the intercession of Doc Davidson.  Doc, if you're reading this up in heaven, put in a good word for me with the Big Guy...

The 4 inches of snow yesterday threatened to make the trip into downtown Knoxville entertaining, but by the time we left the house (8:30) the roads were already in pretty good shape.  Got to slide around a little in the subdivision, but after that it was smooth sailing.  Of course, it's pretty hard to get the Avalanche to lose its grip, even when driving on bald tires (I was waiting to find out the results of the PET scan before investing in new tires for the truck - how's that for melodrama!?)

So, onward and upward.  If I could stop worrying about work, this wouldn't be so bad.  Of course, that will change tomorrow.  Time for another "cleanse" and then Friday's ultrasound test, which of course involves yet another object being inserted where it ought not go.

Diagnosis +13

One of my early thoughts after hearing that I had cancer was that I was going to blog my experiences.  Then I realized how trite that is.  But in one of my many introspective moments in the last couple of weeks, I happened upon an email that I sent to my sister-in-law, shortly after my first wife's death.  That email encapsulated a state of mind - a self, that I had lost sight of.  And so here I go.  I can't promise anything except that I'll try to make this blog a reflection of whatever it is that I'm experiencing.

Here's my inaugural "drinking the prep solution" photo:

And here's the photo from the recovery room after the colonoscopy:

And finally, here's the photo outside the PET scanner.  For some reason I couldn't sneak my cell phone into the PET scan room...