In this past year of firsts I have become aware of a curious transition. Aside from some of the expected varieties of grief, there has been a troubling reversal to previous times.

Just before Nat became past self reliance for simple things, I had bladder cancer and prostate surgery. As time progressed all my focus turned to her. As a result I began to suffer stress symptoms - loss of weight, mouth blisters, depression, fatigue and I managed to blow a vessel in the back of my eye.

But the big stuff seemed to be well in hand. A hernia operation was due to her physical care; lifting up and down in and out.

Now the weight has done a one-eighty, the blisters are gone. Depression is only a night time and physically I'm quite well rested. The eye can't be cured but it's stabilized with needles every six weeks.

The curious part I mentioned at the start, is the big stuff has booked a new tour prompting all kinds of wonderful time consuming activities. Blood work, cystoscopies, ultrasounds, x-rays, CT Scans, weigh-ins, blood pressure, more blood work and the ever popular latex glove.

It struck me that these all lay dormant as a favour to me, stress gang aside, so that I could look after Nat. Now that the brain recognizes its focus has altered, it decided to broadcast to all its old followers.

It wasn't required to battle the big stuff since outside intervention appeared to hold the line; it just had to look in now and then. It had new battles to wage, thosecarrying the flag of stress. When they ended, it made its rounds and tinkered, providing a trigger.

It made me wonder if there is actually a department in the brain that processes all these facts and creates a schedule based on all the components of its host. One that autonomously determines the course of events provided by that information, adjusting as it evolves.

All this occurred to me when I had the scan today. Things were going fine, well not fine but settling a little; I knew how I felt then suddenly all these new/old intrusions.

They pumped a dye into me while reciting all the horrid things that it might cause with percentages that failed to appeal.

Nothing happened.

They said now when it starts to flow you will feel warm all over, a metallic taste, that's perfectly normal.

Nothing of the kind.

"Okay sit here for fifteen minutes and if you experience any unusual symptoms, call for a nurse right away."

Fifteen minutes counting ceiling tiles and nothing. "Is that okay?" I asked

"Hmm," they said.

I drove home thinking, if it's all negative then thumbs up and carry on. If it's positive then a tall glass of vodka with a twist, some music, an easy chair and a very, very hard look at how the rest of my days will be spent.