“You have a lot of scars on your head” quips the hairdresser amongst the continuous stream of snips cast by her scissors.
“Scars would imply stories and while I have many a tale, scars those are not.”
Nary a tale of the past do those small bald spots tell, but a warning of what may lay ahead.
“Are you sure those are not mistakes you are trying to cover up?” I teasingly accuse her, looking to change the topic of conversation.
The bait is taken and she returns to queries about my destination. Leaving me to half listen and answer while my mind returns to the phone call a few weeks ago…
“I need you to see a rheumatologist so we can rule out vasculitis.”
The terseness in the specialists voice on the phone betrays his thoughts – this isn’t ruling out, this is to confirm and determine which form. An open ended scrip for prednisone is issued at 25 mg/day and I get ready to be pushed back onto the classic Canadian medical queue.
“Don’t worry. There are 40 in Vancouver alone.”
I wonder if he is trying to reassure me or himself?
But the drug manages to suppress the slow growing collection of symptoms, enabling me to sit here in the Air Canada Maple Leaf Lounge and await the subsonic airborne tube back to Valle de Bravo. Medical concerns await my return two plus weeks away, near an eternity from where I sit now.
The plan is simple – Make this one count.