yourlifeisatrip

by Nancy King

author Nancy King in Paris. @Suzan Hall.The voice on the other end of the phone was exultant. “I’ve found a house exchange on Craig’s list. I’m going to Paris for two weeks. I leave in ten days.”

Envy, like a mass of kudzu, took up every bit of space inside me. It was all I could do to congratulate her. I wanted to go to Paris. I wanted to eat croissants and drink wine, see great art, walk along the Seine. Instead, I was waiting to learn the results of the bone marrow biopsy, pretty sure I was facing a third bout of leukemia, having a port put into my chest, chemotherapy . . .

“Want to come with me?” she asked.

I wanted to say yes. Yes. Yes.Yes. Instead, I felt like a five-year old. “I can’t tell you. I have an appointment with Dr. L. tomorrow. He’ll give me the test results. Could I call you after I talk with him?”

“Sure. Good luck tomorrow.” I hung up feeling depressed, deprived, and despondent.

He didn’t waste any time. “There are hairy cells (cancer cells) in your bone marrow and peripheral blood. I think we should start treatment right away. I’ll give you the number to schedule the port implantation, and when the incision is healed, we’ll start chemo. Any questions?”

“Yes. A friend invited me to go to Paris for two weeks. Do you think I’m well enough to go with her?”

“If it were me? I’d go in a heartbeat.”

Feelings of exultation almost overwhelmed me but I managed to say. “Treatment postponed. I’m going to Paris.” We hugged. I skipped out of the Cancer Center, too joyful to take one step at a time. In the car, I called my friend. “Yes. Yes. Yes! I’m coming.”