A full day at hospital today also included an MRI that we had not told anyone about. I have quickly learnt that keeping a poker face and holding MRI appointments close to my chest is a much simpler way to deal with the anticipation. Unfortunately, it also seems to bring secret tears as I sit through the scan.
The result however, has proved worth it. Whilst reading an MRI like this takes many weeks of intricate comparison to the previous scans, Pippa’s oncologist was very keen to have an “unqualified” look for himself. He is happy and can see some positive signs in the pictures so far. This at last (after 5 and a half months of surgery and treatment) matches something solid and medical on the inside with what we see on the outside. It also, I imagine, motivates and confirms for him that despite the length, the twists and turns and the intersections without directionsthe road he is following is perhaps the right one.
I should have taken a photo of Pippa in the MRI tunnel to placate my mother who likes to see photos on every blog. Better still, I should have taken a sound recording of the most boring 45 minutes I always have to sit and ‘vibrate’ my way through whilst Pippa gets to watch a movie. I didn’t. I thought instead about my grandmother, Nellie, and secretly thanked my cousin who recently reminded me that her strength is passed through all of us and she sees it so clearly in Pippa and I. Then I shed a few tears.
Now, I’m drinking bubbles and Pippa’s celebrating with another, in some ways slightly stronger and more aggresive than previously, course of chemotherapy.
Pippa Rea 