A HOLE IN MY SOCK

So I noticed a hole in my sock this morning. Now, to most people, that's not much of a life event, but to me -- well, it's pretty damn significant. Allow me to explain:

Slightly over a year ago I learned the results of a biopsy from a mass in my parotid (salivary) gland. We were visiting in Portland for a few days when this occurred and the news was a pretty shocking blow, as one may understand. It's bad enough to have any melanoma in your body, but we didn't know if this discovery represented a single, isolated tumor or if it was just the tip of the iceberg with more tumor already present elsewhere, typical for melanoma. Prognosis and possible treatment depended on the results, then, of a pending whole-body CT scan and PET scan to assess for metastatic disease.

Emotionally at this time, I was wallowing. In the course of a few days I had gone from getting back onto our boat and continuing our dream cruise to the Bahamas to absolute uncertainty for my future. This uncertainty was so profound I found it difficult to concentrate and almost impossible to focus my thoughts toward any rational resolution of the situation.

Since I had to stay in Portland for the imaging studies, I took Elaine to the airport so she could get back to the boat in Florida, get some important papers and set the boat up for a longer absence than we had initially planned. We were only going to be gone four days when we left Florida, so I packed pretty lightly. It had been so warm I had been wearing sandals most of the time, but at the last minute I threw in one pair of socks since it was winter and we were heading to the Pacific Northwet. After dropping Elaine off, I headed to a shopping mall to buy another pair of socks as I had been wearing my one pair since we had arrived. It was then that I became aware that I was in even worse emotional shape than I first thought. It had been bad enough to get the news of the cancer, but now I was without Elaine, who was more of a support than I had realized.

I walked into a store, looking to buy one pair of athletic socks, but felt like a little kid walking into a shop of horrors. I was surrounded by sporting goods and athletic equipment -- things that I would normally be interested in -- but they just reminded me that I might not live long enough to ever use anything like that again. And the socks! They only came in packages of 12! Why the hell should I buy 12 pair of socks when I might be full of cancer and not live long enough to even wear out the one pair I currently owned? Totally defeated, I left the sore empty-handed.

Fast-forward a few days. Elaine had returned, I had my CT/PET scan and we were awaiting the results. We were distracting ourselves by going to movies. After parking the rental car, and as we were walking toward the theater, my phone rang -- it was the surgeon with the results of the scans. The scans had shown no other evidence of disease. At least now we would be able to develop a strategy to attack this tumor, a strategy that would be consistent with living longer.

My first words to Elaine after getting the results?  "Now I can go buy those socks!"

I did go buy the socks -- all 12 pair -- and, although the treatment strategy has taken a few twists and turns, I'm still kickin'. And my feet are covered with the socks that are now starting to wear out!