I have an MRI scheduled for Thursday evening after work at the earliest possible time I could guarantee Brian could make it. I didn’t want to wait too long to have the test done but I need to know that my husband is there. I am terrified of needles and someone will have to hold me still while they inject the contrast for the scan into my vein.
I have always been a big baby about needles. The first time I remember receiving a needle was a traumatic and shocking moment and the experience has not improved from there. It does not help matters that I was sick and hallucinating at the time and I thought the old women in the hospital with blue hair were trying to eat me (in hindsight, I realize them telling me that I was “sweet enough to eat” was a lie intended to calm me down and not a promise of events to come). As an adult, I no longer blame those women but I do think that experience explains why I will never be a blood donor despite a belief in my family that blood donation is a patriotic and Christian duty. I suspect the Red Cross would rather not get my blood considering the ordeal I would likely put them through.
Brian will have to be there in order for anyone to survive.
The MRI is looking for a tumor my doctor suspects is currently growing on my pituitary gland and secreting hormones that should not be secreted. I am actually starting to hope that the tumor does exist. I’d rather know what is wrong than anything else. And I’d rather start treatment right away. In this case, ignorance is definitely not bliss.
I decided that naming the potential tumor that is lurking inside my skull would be a very good idea. I wrestled with the idea of naming it for several days as I don’t plan on keeping it inside of my head forever and perhaps I should not provide a tumor with its own identity but I ultimately decided that while the tumor is in me, it is not part of me and therefore should not share my identity with me.
I named the tumor “Peter Keating”.
My husband, who is not well read and who is not an objectivist, was very confused by this. I think he was also confused at the naming of a potential tumor but I’m fairly certain the tumor is there.
Perhaps I’m just putting the cart before the horse by treating a potential tumor as if it were here but at the same time, naming the tumor seems to make it better. As if by naming the tumor, I control the tumor. I control how long the tumor is here and I control what effects the tumor has on my life. It is almost as if I am Adam and God has given me the task of naming all creatures I am to have dominance over. I plan on dominating the tumor.
The fact is, without some sense of control, the possibilities of this tumor are terrifying. And while I know at some point I will have to be able to surrender the idea that I can have control or I will be humbled by something unexpected, but at the moment, I feel like a sense of control is a good thing. It gives me something to cling to.
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