A Tightrope between Terror and Triumph

So, on the Friday we went to Ottawa, I woke up with a new lump in my neck. I’ll save you the panic and suspense: IT’S NOTHING TO WORRY ABOUT. It’s not even a lump, just the tightening of tissue as my neck continues to heal. But it feels an awful lot like the pressure I experienced last August that was a lump and that led to more surgery followed by the chemo and radiation. And so when I woke up with this new but similar feeling a month ago, I was gripped by a familiar icy panic that I thought was behind me.

I decided to wait until after the weekend to contact the hospital. If it was something to worry about, going to the doctor immediately—even if he was available on such short notice—wasn’t going to help. And bringing such terrible news to the weekend with friends we’d been so looking forward to seeing was not an appealing option. And so, I kept it to myself and tried to make the most of our weekend. Nothing like being faced with your own mortality (again) to make you appreciate the hell out of your friends (again), but it’s also a heavy load to bear alone. Allegra called me on it at one point, asking why I was so quiet. I dodged the question. I’ve tried to be very open about my cancer and treatment, but I’ve also tried not to worry people unduly.

By Monday, I was a bit of a wreck and finally shared my fears with Jeanette, making her a wreck too. Fortunately, I was able to get a hold of Dr. O’Sullivan and he saw me immediately. He was worried by my description of the pressure in my neck, but he could feel no lump, whereas last year’s lump had been easily felt. To be sure, he booked me for another CT scan. The earliest available appointment was 12 days away. I asked him what my options were if the scan revealed new cancerous growth. He delicately avoided answering with any specifics. I’m not the only one worried about unduly alarming people.

The Friday afternoon of my CT scan, I decided to also go to the University of Toronto to have my student card photo taken. After the scan, as I made the short walk from Princess Margaret Hospital to the U of T campus, I was suddenly struck by the opposing fortunes that these two very different portraits represented. The CT scan—a look inward—could reveal the shutting down of my options. The student card photo—revealing my outward appearance—represented all the new opportunities that lay ahead.

Unlike the scan, my T-card was available immediately. I looked at it often and treated it like a totem to summon that brighter future. It seems to have worked. Dr. O’Sullivan called me back on August 5 to tell me the CT scan was clear. I’d once again survived a perilous journey from terror to triumph.

With that experience fresh in my mind, it’s no wonder I was so intrigued this past Friday to read a film review of a documentary called Man on Wire. This film by James Marsh tells the astonishing story of how, on August 7, 1974, French acrobat Philippe Petit and his team snuck to the rooftops of the World Trade Centre and rigged a 26-foot long steel cable between the Twin Towers. Petit then traversed that high-wire, without any net or safety harness, an astounding eight times over 45 minutes before stepping back to safety and into the custody of the NYPD.

I took Alfredo to see the film to escape the rain yesterday and also because Alfredo is fascinated by tall buildings. He knows the ranking of all the world’s tallest structures and was immensely proud to live in the city with the world’s tallest tower until that title was usurped by a building in Dubai. Alfredo also knows about the Twin Towers, but unfortunately most of his knowledge comes from their destruction in 2001. How wonderful, then, to have this film that shows not only the buildings being constructed, but their also being used in such a breathtaking act of pure joy and mischievous fun. The stunt itself, of course, is ridiculously dangerous and rightly out of reach for the rest of us. And yet what a joyous, life-affirming story this film has to tell. It’s comforting to know that things we associate with something terrible can still hold the power to inspire.