The movie Jurassic Park was so scary. I remember when it first came out, and my husband and I stood in line at the movie theater with lots of parents and their small children, as though this were some kind of Barney event. As the movie progressed, there was a parade of these same parents, dragging their terrified children out of the theater. We scratched our heads and shrugged, as we were childless at the time and feeling rather smug in our ability to armchair-quarterback parenthood.
There's this one scene that has come to (what's left of) my mind lately. It's the one where the kids are trapped in the kitchen with a fierce and clever raptor who is hunting them, and they are playing this highly suspenseful cat-and-mouse game. It got to the point where I could barely stand it any longer, when another raptor came in the room. At that point, I thought this was over -- how could these kids possibly survive two raptors?
But they did.
I was telling this story to my Aunt Pat, who is having a PET scan done today to further examine some spots on her liver and lung, which may be nothing -- or which may be her cancer spreading. (She is a colorectal cancer survivor.) We'll know the results tomorrow, and hopefully she doesn't have any more raptors entering her kitchen. But even if she does, the game isn't over. It becomes another battle, and it's better to face the raptor head-on instead of having it take over without warning.
In an eerie coincidence, I got a letter in the mail today, informing me that my recent mammogram warrants further examination. I go in tomorrow, and hopefully I won't have any more raptors entering my kitchen. (I know that many recalled cases end up being nothing.) But I thought it was interesting to have talked to my aunt about the possibility of taking on another raptor and surviving. Maybe it was a way of preparing myself for the possibility.
Or maybe tomorrow will just bring us both a big sigh of relief.
(OR maybe this is how I will finally get book #2 finished...)