A Call During Dinner
It was the day after Thanksgiving, about a week since my thyroid surgery. I was sitting in a booth at a popular Chinese restaurant in town, across the table from a good friend of mine. M, a violinist with an incredibly busy schedule, knew I had cabin fever and was itching to get out of the house, so she made time in her day to take me out to dinner. All of my friends were being so kind to me! I’d soon be back at the Cleveland Clinic for the operation on my right eye, but I didn’t want to think about that. I wanted to enjoy my dinner and my friend’s company.
The server had just taken away our soup when my cellphone rang. It seemed rude to take a call during dinner, but a 216 area code showed up on the screen, meaning the call was coming from Cleveland. It could be one of my doctors. (I now had so many I began thinking of them collectively as a team.) M indicated she didn’t mind, so I answered the phone.
She sat quietly, listening to my side of the conversation, which must have sounded like this:
— Yes, this is she.
— Oh, thanks for calling.
— You did?
— It did?
— I see.
— Well, I’m having eye surgery next week, but I’ll call her first thing Monday morning.
— All right.
I put the phone down and looked at M. “Well,” I said, “I have thyroid cancer.”
To be continued …
Part 1: The Baby’s Nightmare
Part 2: The Nightmare Returns
Part 3: Room 101 and the Masquerading Marauder
Part 4: The Eye as Metaphor
Part 5: The Back Story
Part 6: It’s Nature’s Way
Part 7: Help From the Man on the Street
Part 8: A DES Daughter?
Part 9: Speak, Memory
Part 10: The Needle and the Damage Done
Part 11: Can I Get a Discount?