Plan Nine From Outerspace

Our bliss hit a blip. I wasn’t expecting Tuesday’s visit to Dr. H. to be so hard. Several issues—concerns I hadn’t even thought of—had been weighing on Killian for some time. I don’t know why I didn’t anticipate this, but just before the radiation mask was made he asked Dr. H., “so, what about my eyebrow? Am I going to lose it?” Without hesitation, Dr. H. said that he would. Killian immediately stood up, angry, pumped, ready to bolt. Dr. H. stood too, and warmly but firmly said, “take a seat.” He then said, “my greater concern is your eye—I’m going to try my best not to lose your eye, but I can’t guarantee it.” Then there was a question—a question that wasn’t a question before this piece of information hit our ears. I asked, “you still want to do this radiation?” Killian said he did. We sat with it for a little while, and then I signed the papers. I used to read these papers so carefully. Now, I just sign them.

The plan is this: Killian starts a five-week course of radiation on March 30. We’ll stay in the NYC at McDonald House for entire treatment course (coming home a couple of weekends—like for Cally’s birthday on April 11). Killian’s done processing the scary possibilities. He doesn’t want to discuss the dangers of this course of radiation. He’s ready to move ahead. As we got ready to leave the City, I asked, “would new pants help?” He said he was pretty sure that new pants would definitely help. On the way home, we bought 2 pair at H&M. Killian feels like he’s weaning himself from his shoe obsession. As far as I’m concerned, shifting obsessions is an effective coping mechanism. He’ll need a new theme song though (check out this link for the shoe theme song). New Shoes by Paolo Nutini