May 18, 2021
Bone marrow biopsy day. I opted for no sedation so I could drive myself there and back. This ‘you’re going to have to rely on others helping’ will happen only when it has to. Just about ready to leave.
What are the chances my best friend from back home is 1) in Omaha 2) at the cancer center 3) texting me right now ??!! I jumped in the Jeep and, oddly, now excited, to get to the Med Center. I tracked her down literally one floor directly below where my appointment was. I had 3 minutes to spare to rush down the elevator.
Both of us needed a hug from each other at this exact time on this exact day. This was most definitely a ‘God’ moment. There was no other explanation. It was so good to see her. Now I could take on the biopsy with a smile. The receptionist asked how I was doing. I said, “I just saw my best friend downstairs and got a hug. I’m doing great.“
The oncology PA came in and explained the procedure very clearly. Another lady came in. It was one of the ladies I saw at my oncologist appointment. She was training with the Case Manager that day. Today she was orienting to the out patient procedure area. She saw my name, recognized it from my appointment, and decided to be in the room learning, but hopeful also for the role of cheerleader and support. It made my heart happy to see her. She stood at the head of the bed while I laid on my stomach for the biopsy. He said it wouldn’t be too painful until he pulled out the first chunk. He was not kidding. I couldn’t feel the drill going into my hip bone, but whatever got sucked out, hurt for just 2 seconds, like he said. But it HURT. One more ‘suck’ for a sample and we were done.
Easy peasy. Well. When I saw an act of God seeing Maria 20 minutes prior, seeing a familiar face in the biopsy room, how could it not go well with God overseeing this. I’m also chalking this up as a win: biopsy without pain meds or sedation. 👊🏼
May 19, 2021
You have new test results available. From what the doctor had explained to me with being anemic and symptoms that can result from higher stages Follicular Lymphoma, I was anticipating it might be in the marrow. But, one can always hope for the best!!
Hoping for the best, reality is: it’s in the bone marrow too. This stuff is everywhere.
May 21, 2021
I just got done working a night shift. I’m in the middle of 5 shifts in a row. I’m trying to stick with my ‘as normal as possible’ routine during this time of being told when and where I’m to be for which test. I’m trying to hold my own with this looming cancer diagnosis. On the outside it may look like I’m holding up well, if one could see the frailty of my emotional structure right now, it looks like with one flick of a finger my body would crumble. Another best friend, Kelli, works at the Med Center and is meeting me at the check in desk to take me to Nuclear Med for my PET scan. I’m so incredibly blessed to have the support system I do. I‘m so happy to see her. I get checked in, tell Kelli goodbye—she says she’s waiting til I’m done so she can walk me out. Oh my gosh. I’m so humbled at her kindness.
New experience with this scan. I had to have nothing to eat 6 hours prior. The nurse starts an IV and injects the nuclear medicine that adheres to cancer cells. Now I sit in the ‘radioactive’ room aka no cell service, I’m assuming due to concrete walks or something so I don’t leak out to others. The standard wait is 45 minutes for the medicine to circulate in your body and cling on to where the cancer is. I think the scan took 15 minutes. I slept through some of it. Back to see Kelli, and we’re both on our way to our respective homes to sleep and go back to work again that night.
May 22, 2021
I slept hard, and later than I normally do. These last few weeks have taken a toll on me. The good sleep was so welcomed. Through sleepy eyes I scroll through my phone notifications. You have new test resilts to view.
What? Why are the scan results in already. It’s Saturday. The radiologist shouldn’t have read it yet. This is becoming old hat for me. I open my chart…
The word that is most accurate there is ‘extensive.’ Let me tell you…
It‘s found in my: brain, salivary glands, muscles of the eyes, neck lymph nodes, blood in my chest, the heart, both breasts, both arm pits (one node measures 3.5 cm x 2.5 cm), urinary tract and kidneys, throughout abdominal space, pelvic space, (one node by a kidney is 6.4 cm x 4.3 cm), throughout my GI tract (stomach and intestines), nodules in the chest wall, abdominal wall, both arms, and a lesion in one vertebrae.
With my shortness of breath, I assumed there might be something larger in my chest that was pushing on my lungs. I was not expecting it to be this bad. I’m completely overwhelmed. Heavy sobbing, ugly crying. Texted my boss that I got the PET scan results, and it was awful. I asked it I could be a little late to work. I needed to gather myself, but I had no idea how I was going to do that. Wow. This is gut wrenching. I am full of this poison. If i could be cut open I’d spill out cancer. I feel so dirty.
Somehow, and I don’t know why, I got my shit together (somewhat) and went to work. All I could think of was how my body has been swallowed up by cancer. Luckily we weren’t busy. I don’t think we even had one call. I was emotionally spent. By 4 am and couldn’t keep it together any longer. Couldn’t stop crying. Texted my boss and told her I needed to leave. She was fine with it. She’s been so kind and empathetic with me. I told my teammates I was leaving. I had sent them the test results so they knew why. I stayed home the next night too. This week of discovery has caught up to me. I’m done. Exhausted. Overwhelmed. Scared. Sad. Angry. I want to crawl in a hole. I don’t want to deal with this. I don’t know how to deal with this. God, I need you so badly right now. I need you to hold me in your loving hands. I’m lost. Carry me.
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