How to Survive a Bombastic Metric Bushwhack

“We found a large mass on your right kidney.“

My electrophysiologist, Dr. Pascual, spoke calmly about the results of a CT scan I had taken only two hours earlier.

“It is best to postpone Thursday’s ablation until you get the mass checked out.“

I thought that was an odd way of telling me we were good to go.

“What are you talking about?” I asked

“The mass was 10.5 cm x 5.9 cm and it was more important to get it checked out than doing the ablation.”

Dr. Pascual used the nonsensical metric system to describe the mass but I knew he was an excellent doctor and trusted his judgment anyway. Furthermore, Nobody even knows what a centimeter looks like but we all know what a foot and a mile and a can of sardines look like.

According to U of G (University of Google), 10.5 cm was equivalent to 4.33 inches, which is equivalent to the length of a sardine can. The 5.9 cm works out to 2.32 inches or about the about the depth of two and a half sardine cans. Why didn’t he just say that? I then saw the urgency of investigating why a couple of sardine cans were sitting on my right kidney.

The Loving Interrogation

I was in the kitchen when Dr. Pascual called. The Navigator and Valerie, my daughter-in-law who also happens to be a nurse, sat at the table as I spoke with the doctor. Of course, they peppered me with questions I could not answer. Violette sat in the Florida Room doing her homework.

The questions cracked like machine gun fire. “What else did he say about the mass?” “Is it cancer?” “At what stage is it?” “Can’t they just cut out the mass?” “Has it spread to other parts of the body?” “Were you even paying attention to what the doctor was saying?” “What the hell is wrong with you?” “Is your insurance paid up?” “How many days do you have left?” “Do you want cremation or burial?” “Who gets the Corvettes?”

Violette is a straight A student and has a situational awareness beyond her nine years. She looked up from her tablet and said, “Po, you can have one of my kidneys if you need it.” Violette and I shared the same blood type, A +. Violette liked to tell people her blood type was like her grades.

Of Golf and Dragonflies

Men from my generation were taught showing emotion was weakness. Men should never be weak. The sudden golf ball that manifested in my throat made it hard to respond quickly to Violette’s comment but coincidentally, a giant dragonfly intentionally flew into my left eye and caused both eyes to tear up. Who left the door open and let a golf ball and an enormous dragonfly into the kitchen? Why didn’t anyone else see it? The pest control company will hear about this next month.

I swallowed the golf ball and wiped off the tears caused by the unfortunate collision with the damned dragonfly. I explained if the kidney were removed, I still had a spare healthy one that could do the job of both. Violette nodded and went back to doing her homework.

The Effectiveness of NSN

Within 30 minutes I made an appointment with an oncologist. The Miami Cancer Institute gave me 4 names to choose from. I asked which one had the earliest available appointment and they booked me with Dr. Rudzinski. Valerie accessed the NSN (Nurses’ Scuttlebutt Network, an unofficial information-sharing service administered by and for nurses) and within 45 seconds we knew everything about Dr. Rudzinski, including that he was left-handed. The NSN rated him very highly in competence and being a nice guy. I was convinced.

The radiologist’s report was detailed and contained many numbers and words that appeared to be written in metric. After running a few of the terms through the U of G’s website, I found I was in fact, of European descent. The proof was my right, left, and middle pulmonary veins were measured in centimeters, not American units of measure. I also have something called a pericardium which is useful for either spying on someone while underwater or performing a type of card trick.

There was no evidence of calcification in my cardiac valves which was a huge relief. Every trumpet player knew calcified valves could stick and required immediate treatment with Blue Juice valve oil. Giving the “one finger salute” to an unsuspecting audience when the 1st and 3rd valves used while playing a low D failed to spring back is a mortifying experience. Though embarrassing, apologies are unnecessary because music is an art.

The Nitty Gritty (kind of)

Right near the end of this metric jumble of gibberish were the Extracardiac Findings. This was where the radiologist lapsed into a metric form of Medieval French talking about a large exophytic mass originating from the right kidney and a heterogeneous enhancement with some kind of probable necrosis. It is nobody’s business which way my enhancement swings. Live and let live. Love is love. The great news was the word cancer was nowhere in the report. I even analyzed the Russian Cyrillic and Greek Orthodox metrical vernacular used in other parts of the report. I was in the clear.

Questionable Behavior

After completing my thorough review of the radiologist’s report Valerie and the Navigator took it from me and slunk off into a dark corner of the Florida Room to discuss it in hushed tones. The Navigator whispered questions and Valerie pointed at the report and whispered back. Then they both looked up at me. Once, they both looked up and the Navigator shook her head as she looked at me. It went like this for about 5 minutes until I had enough and asked, “What the hell’s going on?”

“Nothing,” was their reply.

I toiled 15 years in the Asset Protection department at the phone factory. Part of my extensive training involved scrutinizing body language, speech patterns, and voice inflections to identify signs of deception. I detected no deception in their response and said, “Ok.”

A Slight Misinterpretation

They congratulated me for making the oncology appointment so quickly. I told them it was unnecessary but I would go just to put their minds at ease. I knew it was only a stack of sardine cans on my kidney and not something more serious like cancer because otherwise it would have been clearly stated it in the report.

That is pretty much how that afternoon went.

So Who Knew?

I shared this news with only a handful of people. These recent months I have been busy preparing for my high school’s 50-year reunion. The stack of sardine cans is Life’s way of slapping some sense into me and helping to refocus on what is truly important. I will put something together within the next few days to update you on the sardine can situation.

A few words about my support system. I am blessed to have the support and guidance of my family and some very dear friends. At one time or another all have endured more than their share of heartache. Despite that, they remain positive role models for those of us experiencing this for the first time. They called and texted to wish me well on important days. You know who you are and I remain eternally grateful for your support.

What’s Next?

This is why I am publicizing this challenging chapter of my life. I am too stubborn and stupid to let this cancer (yes, there is enough evidence to reasonably arrive at that conclusion) derail my life. My preferred course of action is to mock it and fart in its general direction, to borrow the French taunter’s line from Monty Python and the Holy Grail.

I will be at that reunion even if some internal organs fall out while doing The Macarena. I will do everything necessary to stick around for my family, especially Violette and Lily. To anyone going through something similar, I encourage you to do likewise. My journey is just beginning but if you need to talk or complain or whatever, reach out to me. I will be there for you.

One Final Thought…

Finally, I need to clarify my earlier reaction to Violette’s comment. That dragonfly may not have been as big as I originally claimed and the golf ball must still be stuck somewhere in my digestive tract. The innocent comment from Violette hit deep in my heart. I paused because I could not simultaneously get the words out and remain composed. Her comment was borne of unconditional love and her desire to do whatever it took to keep me around. The last thing I ever wanted was to do or say anything to sadden or worry her. I never intended to worry her.

A couple of days after we got the news, Violette’s class discussed the topic of grandparents. The teacher reported Violette became sad and sobbed describing my situation. Since then, we have talked about how I still intend to be at her grandchildren’s’ weddings and how people can live many years with only one kidney. She understands. I told her the best thing we could do was to make the most of every moment we have. My children and grandchildren are pure love and my family is my life. Nothing comes close. We are fine.