I was thinking the other day about how life consists of a series of steps, from one learning level to another. I remember when I was in the eighth grade, at the top of the world it seemed. A few months later I was a freshman in high school and the lowest of the low.

Don't you think the lives of everyone consists of a series of steps? From schooling to work: The first job, the first promotion, perhaps a change in location, maybe a divorce, raising kids and starting them off on new lives, and seeing the cycle repeated from a different perspective.

When I retired I thought to myself: "Aha, finally at the pinnacle. Time to take it easy and enjoy a hassle-free life." How na�ve I was!

A few weeks ago I learned I have cancer of the prostate. Now, I begin all over again with more steps, navigating uncharted waters. Where that will end�aside from the one certainty of life�is a mystery for me.

I have to say this experience has been unnerving for both me and my wife. How will we cope over the coming months? When my radiologist told me about some of the side effects of assorted medications, I had second thoughts. He said he would use anti-inflammatory drugs, like Prednisone. Geez! I've had some experience with that stuff and it's a real bummer. Irritability is one of the major side effects, and both my wife and I are worried about how that drug will affect our relationship and how we will cope with the added stress. That worry is, in many respects, more threatening than the physical manifestations of the disease and treatment per se.

Today I went to the hospital for a Magnetic Resonance Imaging (MRI) test. I was placed in a very narrow and confining tunnel and images were taken to help the radiologist evaluate the stage of the cancer and to determine if it has spread beyond the prostate to other parts of the body.

I have had an MRI several times but my prior experience did not help me too much from an emotional point of view. I was pretty nervous and uptight. I had slept fitfully the night before, was troubled by bad dreams, and had had no breakfast the morning of the procedure. Now, I ask you, is there any sacrifice greater than forgoing breakfast?

So, we get to the hospital at 8:30 am�for me the crack of dawn, as I am definitely not a "morning person." We go to the cancer center at the hospital (I am already getting used to this word, and the people there are very understandingl). I get changed�God, I can't stand those hospital gowns that tie from the back. They make me feel so vulnerable and awkward. I go to the imaging room.

The procedure itself is painless and short--mine took about 20 minutes. We were talking about this test in the AARP chat room a few nights ago and some of us talked about the ways we cope within that inches-to-spare bit of space of the MRI machine (definitely not a place for people who are claustrophobic) and the discombobulating sounds the device makes�loud bangs, clanking sounds, and weird buzzing noises. Then too, you must lie absolutely still. No scratching of noses allowed, whatsoever!

Some seniors said they take a tranquilizer before to ease their anxiety, especially if they have a tendency toward claustropbobia. I didn't�not because I'm macho about it but because I wanted to remain alert and not have a Valium hangover. I take enough medications as it is, and I like to be a minimalist about prescription drugs.

How did I cope? I kept my eyes closed, but I gotta tell you, I couldn't resist a peek or two to see if the world was still there. On the other hand, I didn't care that much to be reminded of how confining everything was!

I coped by looking for mental distractions. I even thought about how I would describe this experience and formulated some of the sentences to use in this story. That helped some. I also used meditation. I would mentally form the sound of a mantra and try to keep my thoughts focused exclusively on this sound. Other times I would try to visualize a light inside my head, again to keep extraneous thoughts from breaking in. It took me some time to relax sufficiently, and I was beginning to drift off when the 20 minutes were over.

There are many ways to achieve a relaxed state of consciousness: You might try reciting a few of your favorite prayers or passages from the bible or recalling pleasant childhood memories from as far back as you can go. Your choices are limited only by your imagination!

I have impaired hearing, so the assorted "bangs" and loud clanking noises accompanied by those interesting buzzing sounds were not all that disturbing to me. (Come to think of it, being hard of hearing can have its occasional benefits!) If you are disturbed by these noises, requesr ear plugs.

So that was my day. I wait now until next week when we will meet with the radiologist to evaluate my condition. Sure, I am nevous but my feelings will not determine the outcome and excessive worrying is only counter productive. I was tense the first day of high school, leaving home for the first time, startomg my the first job, and getting married. But that's what life is all about: One continuous learning experience by which we seek to grow, gain new knowledge, and widen our horizons.

Hey, know what? I bet the next life�in whatever dimension it may be�will be a repeat performance of this step process. I haven't the foggiest idea of its possible form or what is in store for me. But for sure, it will be interesting and enlightening.

Aren't you impressed by my philosophy? Aren't my words an inspiration for others? Who am I kidding anyway? I'm still damned scared.

� Rich ([email protected])