Jan 18 2006 Last Friday I had my semiannual PSA test, the one where zero is the number that wins the prize. I asked the technician when the results would be back and was told Monday afternoon or Tuesday morning.

Today, Wednesday, as my massage therapist was working on my cancer operation scar and I lazily remembered what was taken out and why, I suddenly realized I had not called for the test results. I rationalized for a minute that if things were not good, the doctor would have called me already. But, to say the least, I was not too relaxed for the balance of the massage.

As soon as my feet hit the pavement outside, I called the doctor's office. How had I come to this? Was I becoming blase about the whole testing thing? I had cancer. It's less than five years since I was operated on. It's sneaky and I don't want to become complacent or expect that it won't come back. Hope? Sure. But not expect, which somehow implies certainty to me.

And I got a little rise in my blood pressure with the call to the doctor's office. The first person I talked to took my name and, after a pause, told me she did not have access to the test results. Lordy. Perhaps they were with the doctor who would not want me to hear bad news from his staff. I was transferred to a second person who again took my name. She asked me to wait. My fears were not assuaged by that idea. She came back on the line and told me that my test was zero.

It took a while for my pulse to slow back to normal.