Challenging your oncologist to a showdown of tests means you are going to radiate (pun-intended) every energy possible! Here's a whole body bone scan with contrast means that before they run you through the big donut scan they are going to load you with radioactive dye. But your consolation prize is a little yellow card that notifies the security officials at the airport or the border crossing that your smile isn't the only part of you that might glow! Then, there's the abdomen scan with contrast--you drink that radioactive liquid. Here's your little yellow card and have a lovely day! "Mrs. Selchow, we are going to need a little blood. A little more blood. Just a little more blood. Oh, and another quart of urine." There's the looks the techs give you after they ask you why you are having the tests and the sad and concerned faces they give you when they shake your hand when you leave. One nice man said, "Good luck, Jana. I sincerely hope these tests bring you the results you are looking for." Kind people.
One Monday, sitting at my desk at work, the phone rang and Dr. Serious's office manager was on the line. "Hi Jana! Dr. Serious would like for you to come into his office for a bone marrow biopsy. Would Wednesday be okay?" Frozen, I stopped reading my email and I asked her to repeat what she just said. Very sweetly and very sincerely, she told me that I needed a bone marrow biopsy. I asked Bibi if the results from the last group of tests showed something. She told me she would look at the doctor's orders, which she did, and then told me the doctor would talk with me when I came for the biopsy. I made the appointment and sat at my desk in shock.
While trying to keep my head from spinning off, I hit compose on my email account and started a note to my brother. I quickly typed him a message explaining what had just happened. Then, I called Bosco. While telling him about the phone call, I finally gave into a little self-pity and started to come unwound. Sniffling, whispering into the phone, an email popped up from my brother, Gary. He typed three little messages: 1) 1 Samuel 17:49-51 Young David killing the giant Goliath with three small, smooth stones, courage, and God's guidance. 2) My dad's promise that "God takes care of us." and 3) My brother's promise to pray for me and that my big brother knows it will all be okay. I could have left work with good reason, but I decided to stay and finish my day. If David could be brave, then it was the least I could do!
Wednesday came quickly. At Dr. Serious's office, Bosco I was escorted to an examining room to speak with Dr. Serious. He explained what was going to happen and asked if we had any questions. Right away I said, "Did you find anything on the other tests that led to this test?" He surprised us by saying no, the tests were inconclusive and the bone marrow biopsy would definitely determine if there was a bone marrow cancer that was leading to Multiple Myeloma. I said, "Okay, let's do this," and I was taken to another examining room.
The nurses made me comfy on a long table with a pillow. Bosco was able to stay with me and watch the procedure. Dr. Serious had brought in an anesthesiologist and she was very nice and comforting as she administered the anesthesia. I was still talking as I closed my eyes and everyone said it was really funny when I said, "Bibi (the office manager) is sooo nice." Hello darkness.
Bosco told me that once he got over the shock at watching the doctor push a needle the diameter of a meat thermometer into my right hip bone with incredible force that it was very interesting! The doctor took the marrow samples and swabbed a couple of slides then placed the marrow slice into a little bottle with clear liquid. The anesthesiologist brought me out of my little nap and the nurses helped me sit on the side of the table until it was time to go. Wow! I was given an appointment card and Bosco and I left. (I did ask him if we could go to Marshalls to shop, but Bosco was not up for that!)
As easy as it sounds, the bone marrow biopsy left me with some pain and a hole in my skin you can still see, today. It was hard to sit in an office chair, it was uncomfortable to lay flat, and if I were touched or bumped I wasn't too polite for a couple of weeks. During an office meeting the following day, I did everything but hang upside down in my chair. Shift, grimace, shift, slide, grimace, bounce leg, grimace, shift, repeat...
A week later, Bosco and I drove to Sierra Vista for the follow-up appointment with Dr. Serious. Bosco took my hand as we walked from the car to the building. Dr. Serious's office staff were as nice as always and we went to an examining room to wait for the news. Dr. Serious breezed in, looking at the test results. He asked how I was feeling, did I have any problems from the biopsy, etc... Finally, I asked what the biopsy results were. He looked a little perplexed and told us that it was negative. No cancer. A flood of relief washed over me. Dr. Serious looked at me and asked, "So, did the endocrinologist really tell you that the parathyroid hormone could cause bones lesions?" I chucked and assured him they could. He said, "Only about 2% of people with hyperparathyroidism have lesions." I just smiled and said, "Well, that would be me."
I am one of two percent, but that day I felt like one in a million. When we got back to Douglas, I went to work for a couple of hours and later that evening, I had dinner with two friends. Telling them about my day, one friend took her glass and raised it and said that we should make a toast. The three of us lifted our glasses and I said, "To life. My life!"
Post Script:
Dr. Serious told me that I would need testing every four months to "keep an eye" on the lesions. I had a skeletal survey and a skull CT on Monday. We go to see Dr. Serious tomorrow.
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
Monday, September 17, 2012
Part 3 Dr. Flyboy
Part 3 Dr. Flyboy
The week after Meghan left, Dr. Wu's office called and told me that they had the results of my blood tests. You will never know how wonderful it is to hear that my parathyroid hormone level was in the nineties when normal is the thirties! This meant that something was malfunctioning with one of my parathyroid glands! We high-fived, hugged, and said we KNEW it was parathyroid the whole time!! Alfred referred me to an endocrinologist, a good surgeon, but I still had to go to the oncologist. I was walking on air!!! There was hope and it was my poor little parathyroid!
One of the symptoms that your parathyroid is out of whack is lethargy. LETHARGY=Serious sleepiness! It had gotten so bad that I would nod off during meetings, the second I got home, and it really had slowed me down. Bosco started driving me to doctor's appointments in Tucson and Sierra Vista so I wouldn't fall asleep while driving. I just couldn't get enough sleep!
The oncologist was...different. He looks like Peter Graves, you know, from Mission Impossible--the series? White hair, tall, stoic, no emotion. Let me stress STOIC! He doesn't laugh, he's pretty serious, and I bet he never does imitations. From the moment I met him I decided that it was my duty to make him laugh. Or chuckle. Or smile. He is nice, just serious. He doesn't seem convinced that the lytic lesions are anything besides cancer. After all, treating cancer IS his specialty, but THAT IS NOT WHAT I WANT TO HEAR!!!
My "endo" was an unusual little man who had a swanky office in
Tucson. My first visit to him was a little weird. He became unduly excited that my mother had had parathyroid surgery due to a benign tumor. After many blood tests and a freaky urinalysis, and a sonogram of my neck, he agreed that I had a tumor on my pt gland. I already had the name of a surgeon, and I was ready to get this thing out of my body so I could start feeling better.
So, I have Dr. Serious and Dr. Different. I learned right away, when you possibly have cancer or some condition, the doctors get kind of excited about the disease. Sometimes you can get lost in the tests and leave feeling pretty confused and frustrated. It's not their fault. We pay them to focus on the diseases.
My niece is an RN. When she learned that I had a surgeon and I was going to have the tumor removed, she was really impressed and excited that Alfred had recommended "Dr. Jim Balserak." I wish there was a way to circle his name with stars and sparkles in this blog! It would be accompanied by a trumpet fanfare and "Hail to the Chief." "Dr. Jim," as he asked me to call him (gush-gush) is pretty famous in the surgical circles and parathyroid is his admitted "favorite surgery." He is a Brigadier General in the AirGuard, had received commendations from at least two presidents, and is sssssssooooooo cute and nice! He is a pilot and several times a year, works with our troups in Afganistan. His office is not swank. In fact, it reminds me of Alfred's. Nothing flashy or too ritzy like the endo's. However, on the wall of the examining room are pictures of Dr. Jim and different presidents, world leaders, and various awards of merit for his bravery and his philantropy. Gotta love him! However, like the others, he ordered tests, scans, blood work... However, by January, I had a surgery date, and things were lookin' good!
And they were good! The surgery lasted less than an hour. The scar is barely visible. And I was starting to feel so much better. The sleepiness leveled out. I was more mentally "sharp." And once my calcium levels stabilized, I was feeling bulletproof. January and February blew by with work and wedding plans. Everyday was sunny and better for the most. When you don't wake-up worried about cancer, everything else is pretty good!
The oncologist's office manager called in March and told me that Dr. Serious wanted me to have another skeletal survey and a bone scan. This seemed reasonable. After all, it would take some time for the lesions to go away and he was overseeing that part of my health. I scheduled the procedure a week before Meg's wedding and would have the follow-up the Monday after her wedding.
The procedure was the same. I knew what to expect and I wasn't expecting anything new.
The day of the follow-up with Dr. Serious, I took my mom and dad with me to Sierra Vista. We would go to the appointment, I would run in, they would sit in the waiting area, and zip/bam/boom, we're back on the road for Douglas. However, Dr. Serious was more serious this time. There was a new lesion on my left hip. A "fairly large one." This was not what I wanted to hear. Dr. Serious and I verbally danced around the subject. Could it be this? Could it be that? Tell me about your surgery, parathroid? Not likely. Finally, wanting him to be more direct, I said, "What do YOU think it is? I have had all the tests, the scans, and my endo says the parathyroid could be causing these lesions." I could tell he didn't want to answer. So, I pushed him further... I said, "Go ahead. If you're wrong, I won't hold you to it." He very calmly and gently said, "I think it is some type of cancer in its earliest stages and it hasn't made itself known." I felt deflated and a little irritated. I asked him what the symptoms would be. He told me 1)Unexpected weight loss 2)Bone Pain to name two. I smirked (and if you know me well, you know I can be a Class One Smirker) and said, "Well, I am up four pounds and I haven't lost a pound since we started all of this! I feel great! No pain, no aches, nothing but feeling great!" Dr. Serious not look convinced. So, I took off my armor and asked him how we could find out if it really is cancer? He told me...more tests and scans. Crazy laughter in my brain at this point! Dr. Serious told me I would need scans with resonance and possibly even a bone marrow biopsy. I looked at Dr. Serious and said, "Well, let's get started!" We shook on the deal, I spoke with his scheduler, and I walked into the lobby like nothing was wrong and drove my parents back to Douglas. At this point, I was shaking, but determined to be bullet-proof.
The week after Meghan left, Dr. Wu's office called and told me that they had the results of my blood tests. You will never know how wonderful it is to hear that my parathyroid hormone level was in the nineties when normal is the thirties! This meant that something was malfunctioning with one of my parathyroid glands! We high-fived, hugged, and said we KNEW it was parathyroid the whole time!! Alfred referred me to an endocrinologist, a good surgeon, but I still had to go to the oncologist. I was walking on air!!! There was hope and it was my poor little parathyroid!
One of the symptoms that your parathyroid is out of whack is lethargy. LETHARGY=Serious sleepiness! It had gotten so bad that I would nod off during meetings, the second I got home, and it really had slowed me down. Bosco started driving me to doctor's appointments in Tucson and Sierra Vista so I wouldn't fall asleep while driving. I just couldn't get enough sleep!
The oncologist was...different. He looks like Peter Graves, you know, from Mission Impossible--the series? White hair, tall, stoic, no emotion. Let me stress STOIC! He doesn't laugh, he's pretty serious, and I bet he never does imitations. From the moment I met him I decided that it was my duty to make him laugh. Or chuckle. Or smile. He is nice, just serious. He doesn't seem convinced that the lytic lesions are anything besides cancer. After all, treating cancer IS his specialty, but THAT IS NOT WHAT I WANT TO HEAR!!!
My "endo" was an unusual little man who had a swanky office in
Tucson. My first visit to him was a little weird. He became unduly excited that my mother had had parathyroid surgery due to a benign tumor. After many blood tests and a freaky urinalysis, and a sonogram of my neck, he agreed that I had a tumor on my pt gland. I already had the name of a surgeon, and I was ready to get this thing out of my body so I could start feeling better.
So, I have Dr. Serious and Dr. Different. I learned right away, when you possibly have cancer or some condition, the doctors get kind of excited about the disease. Sometimes you can get lost in the tests and leave feeling pretty confused and frustrated. It's not their fault. We pay them to focus on the diseases.
My niece is an RN. When she learned that I had a surgeon and I was going to have the tumor removed, she was really impressed and excited that Alfred had recommended "Dr. Jim Balserak." I wish there was a way to circle his name with stars and sparkles in this blog! It would be accompanied by a trumpet fanfare and "Hail to the Chief." "Dr. Jim," as he asked me to call him (gush-gush) is pretty famous in the surgical circles and parathyroid is his admitted "favorite surgery." He is a Brigadier General in the AirGuard, had received commendations from at least two presidents, and is sssssssooooooo cute and nice! He is a pilot and several times a year, works with our troups in Afganistan. His office is not swank. In fact, it reminds me of Alfred's. Nothing flashy or too ritzy like the endo's. However, on the wall of the examining room are pictures of Dr. Jim and different presidents, world leaders, and various awards of merit for his bravery and his philantropy. Gotta love him! However, like the others, he ordered tests, scans, blood work... However, by January, I had a surgery date, and things were lookin' good!
And they were good! The surgery lasted less than an hour. The scar is barely visible. And I was starting to feel so much better. The sleepiness leveled out. I was more mentally "sharp." And once my calcium levels stabilized, I was feeling bulletproof. January and February blew by with work and wedding plans. Everyday was sunny and better for the most. When you don't wake-up worried about cancer, everything else is pretty good!
The oncologist's office manager called in March and told me that Dr. Serious wanted me to have another skeletal survey and a bone scan. This seemed reasonable. After all, it would take some time for the lesions to go away and he was overseeing that part of my health. I scheduled the procedure a week before Meg's wedding and would have the follow-up the Monday after her wedding.
The procedure was the same. I knew what to expect and I wasn't expecting anything new.
The day of the follow-up with Dr. Serious, I took my mom and dad with me to Sierra Vista. We would go to the appointment, I would run in, they would sit in the waiting area, and zip/bam/boom, we're back on the road for Douglas. However, Dr. Serious was more serious this time. There was a new lesion on my left hip. A "fairly large one." This was not what I wanted to hear. Dr. Serious and I verbally danced around the subject. Could it be this? Could it be that? Tell me about your surgery, parathroid? Not likely. Finally, wanting him to be more direct, I said, "What do YOU think it is? I have had all the tests, the scans, and my endo says the parathyroid could be causing these lesions." I could tell he didn't want to answer. So, I pushed him further... I said, "Go ahead. If you're wrong, I won't hold you to it." He very calmly and gently said, "I think it is some type of cancer in its earliest stages and it hasn't made itself known." I felt deflated and a little irritated. I asked him what the symptoms would be. He told me 1)Unexpected weight loss 2)Bone Pain to name two. I smirked (and if you know me well, you know I can be a Class One Smirker) and said, "Well, I am up four pounds and I haven't lost a pound since we started all of this! I feel great! No pain, no aches, nothing but feeling great!" Dr. Serious not look convinced. So, I took off my armor and asked him how we could find out if it really is cancer? He told me...more tests and scans. Crazy laughter in my brain at this point! Dr. Serious told me I would need scans with resonance and possibly even a bone marrow biopsy. I looked at Dr. Serious and said, "Well, let's get started!" We shook on the deal, I spoke with his scheduler, and I walked into the lobby like nothing was wrong and drove my parents back to Douglas. At this point, I was shaking, but determined to be bullet-proof.
Saturday, September 15, 2012
Part 2 parathyroid.com
Part 2
The evening after hearing I might have multiple myeloma Bosco and I poured ourselves into reseaching everything we could find about lytic lesions, multiple myeloma, and hyperparathyroidism. I called my friend Judy and told her what was going on as well as my brother. My friend, being such a good friend, said all the right things and expressed loving concerns and agreed that it was probably a mistake and all would be good. Talking to my brother was VERY VERY hard. Big brothers have this idea that it is their job to protect their little sisters, even when they are over fifty. Gary listened, didn't say much, and told me he was sure it would all be okay. He was unusually quiet, which if you know my brother, you know this is not normal! I kept my circle very small.
There is a lot on the internet about multiple myeloma, and none of it is inspiring or good. Everything about lytic lesions references multiple myeloma. So, I started looking for sites that connected lytic lesions with hyperparathyroidism. Bingo! At parathyroidism.com there was information that supported the idea that the lesions might be caused by something being wrong with my parathyroid. The website also reported other symptoms I had been experincing. Headaches, chest pains, lethargy,etc... The parathyroid makes too much hormone which causes calcium to leech off the bone, making lesions. When the hormone level is undercontrol, the bone can actually repair itself. It happens to about 2% of people with hyperparathyroidism. At that moment, two percent became a life preserver in a sea of fear. One part of me said, "No way, no how do I have cancer." Another part of me said, "Oh, no. This cannot be happening to me."
My mind was moving so quickly. Between the war of I am a healthy 53 year old woman and someone is telling me I have terminal cancer. Alfred had said the prognosis from the radiologist implied advanced multiple myeloma. Worst case scenario, four months left. That would put me dying before my daughter's wedding. What about Bosco, my frail and elderly parents, and Jordan? What about Jordan? I thought of things I hadn't done in my life. I hadn't gone to Ireland. I hadn't held a grandchild. I wanted to retire and spend time with Bosco. I wanted to see Jordan graduate from college, start teaching, and marry the love of his life. I kept thinking about all the mornings I had gotten dressed to go to work, kissed Bosco goodbye, came home and worked from my laptop. I thought about what I would leave behind and would it be something remembered? I thought about lost moments that I couldn't get back. It was not just scary, it was unsettling. Of course I prayed. But I know God's will is unmoving. So, I had to put it all in his hands. That was easy because I certainly didn't want to do this on my own!
The next day, I went to the hospital and signed in for my skeletal survey. The four foot eight inch receptionist entered all the information into the computer and wouldn't you know it, insurance rejected it. Little tiny Maria the receptionist turned right into viper-woman right in front of our eyes! She politely asked if I would mind going home and she would call me when she had the problem solved. I had heard her ripping on the insurance woman and I was not about to argue with this little powerhouse! But postponing the procedure was a little problem because Meghan was flying into Tucson that afternoon around 3:00, so Bosco and I needed to be on the road to Tucson by 1:00. I went home and on the way, I received a call from Meg telling me that her flight was going to be late. There was a delay and she wouldn't be in until around 6:00. Remember, we hadn't told her what was going on, so I assured her everything was good and Bosco and I would be there to pick her up. At 1:00, my new friend, Maria the Brave, called and told me all systems were GO and come right in for the procedure.
A skeletal survey is not common. It almost seems a little out-of-date considering most procedures involve nuclear medicine. A skeletal survey x-rays every single bone in your body while you lie very still on the table. There is a lot of film changing and checks for clarity. You lay on your back and your side and it takes over an hour to complete. I tried to weasel some info from the tech, but he gave me the "Your doctor will be in touch" line. When I asked him point blank if he saw any lytic lesions besides the ones on my skull, he did confirm he didn't see any. That made me feel good. The internet pictures showed some very advanced damage from lesions and I felt I had dodged that bullet.
Bosco and I drove to Tucson to meet Meg's plane. We talked about superficial things and a little about whether or not to tell Meghan. We decided that she needed to know and how we would tell her. I looked out the window watching for something I had never seen before, trying not to think about what was happening in our life.
It's always great to greet your child at the airport. Everyone is smiling, hugging, and there is a sense of celebration in the air. I wanted to appear calm, relaxed, and "myself" whatever that looks like! We grabbed her bags, loaded up the truck, and headed for Eegees, Meghan's favorite place to grab a sub sandwich.
Driving along the interstate, catching up on how her day had gone, I started telling Meghan about the CT Scan and what had all transpired in the past two days. I did my best to be upbeat, told her that I was SURE it was hyperparathyroid, and everything would be okay. Tra-La-La, tra-la-la. I couldn't tell her that Dad and I were terrified. She didn't say much and she asked a few question. Soon she told us she wanted to sleep a little as we moved on down the road.
We had a great time with Meghan that week. When we went to the wedding planner, on our way to the car, Meg put her arm through mine and said, "Don't make me go through this alone. I need you."
The evening after hearing I might have multiple myeloma Bosco and I poured ourselves into reseaching everything we could find about lytic lesions, multiple myeloma, and hyperparathyroidism. I called my friend Judy and told her what was going on as well as my brother. My friend, being such a good friend, said all the right things and expressed loving concerns and agreed that it was probably a mistake and all would be good. Talking to my brother was VERY VERY hard. Big brothers have this idea that it is their job to protect their little sisters, even when they are over fifty. Gary listened, didn't say much, and told me he was sure it would all be okay. He was unusually quiet, which if you know my brother, you know this is not normal! I kept my circle very small.
There is a lot on the internet about multiple myeloma, and none of it is inspiring or good. Everything about lytic lesions references multiple myeloma. So, I started looking for sites that connected lytic lesions with hyperparathyroidism. Bingo! At parathyroidism.com there was information that supported the idea that the lesions might be caused by something being wrong with my parathyroid. The website also reported other symptoms I had been experincing. Headaches, chest pains, lethargy,etc... The parathyroid makes too much hormone which causes calcium to leech off the bone, making lesions. When the hormone level is undercontrol, the bone can actually repair itself. It happens to about 2% of people with hyperparathyroidism. At that moment, two percent became a life preserver in a sea of fear. One part of me said, "No way, no how do I have cancer." Another part of me said, "Oh, no. This cannot be happening to me."
My mind was moving so quickly. Between the war of I am a healthy 53 year old woman and someone is telling me I have terminal cancer. Alfred had said the prognosis from the radiologist implied advanced multiple myeloma. Worst case scenario, four months left. That would put me dying before my daughter's wedding. What about Bosco, my frail and elderly parents, and Jordan? What about Jordan? I thought of things I hadn't done in my life. I hadn't gone to Ireland. I hadn't held a grandchild. I wanted to retire and spend time with Bosco. I wanted to see Jordan graduate from college, start teaching, and marry the love of his life. I kept thinking about all the mornings I had gotten dressed to go to work, kissed Bosco goodbye, came home and worked from my laptop. I thought about what I would leave behind and would it be something remembered? I thought about lost moments that I couldn't get back. It was not just scary, it was unsettling. Of course I prayed. But I know God's will is unmoving. So, I had to put it all in his hands. That was easy because I certainly didn't want to do this on my own!
The next day, I went to the hospital and signed in for my skeletal survey. The four foot eight inch receptionist entered all the information into the computer and wouldn't you know it, insurance rejected it. Little tiny Maria the receptionist turned right into viper-woman right in front of our eyes! She politely asked if I would mind going home and she would call me when she had the problem solved. I had heard her ripping on the insurance woman and I was not about to argue with this little powerhouse! But postponing the procedure was a little problem because Meghan was flying into Tucson that afternoon around 3:00, so Bosco and I needed to be on the road to Tucson by 1:00. I went home and on the way, I received a call from Meg telling me that her flight was going to be late. There was a delay and she wouldn't be in until around 6:00. Remember, we hadn't told her what was going on, so I assured her everything was good and Bosco and I would be there to pick her up. At 1:00, my new friend, Maria the Brave, called and told me all systems were GO and come right in for the procedure.
A skeletal survey is not common. It almost seems a little out-of-date considering most procedures involve nuclear medicine. A skeletal survey x-rays every single bone in your body while you lie very still on the table. There is a lot of film changing and checks for clarity. You lay on your back and your side and it takes over an hour to complete. I tried to weasel some info from the tech, but he gave me the "Your doctor will be in touch" line. When I asked him point blank if he saw any lytic lesions besides the ones on my skull, he did confirm he didn't see any. That made me feel good. The internet pictures showed some very advanced damage from lesions and I felt I had dodged that bullet.
Bosco and I drove to Tucson to meet Meg's plane. We talked about superficial things and a little about whether or not to tell Meghan. We decided that she needed to know and how we would tell her. I looked out the window watching for something I had never seen before, trying not to think about what was happening in our life.
It's always great to greet your child at the airport. Everyone is smiling, hugging, and there is a sense of celebration in the air. I wanted to appear calm, relaxed, and "myself" whatever that looks like! We grabbed her bags, loaded up the truck, and headed for Eegees, Meghan's favorite place to grab a sub sandwich.
Driving along the interstate, catching up on how her day had gone, I started telling Meghan about the CT Scan and what had all transpired in the past two days. I did my best to be upbeat, told her that I was SURE it was hyperparathyroid, and everything would be okay. Tra-La-La, tra-la-la. I couldn't tell her that Dad and I were terrified. She didn't say much and she asked a few question. Soon she told us she wanted to sleep a little as we moved on down the road.
We had a great time with Meghan that week. When we went to the wedding planner, on our way to the car, Meg put her arm through mine and said, "Don't make me go through this alone. I need you."
"Mrs. Selchow, there's something on the CT Scan." Part 1
Part 1
Last year about this time, I started having some health concerns. I had a nagging headache, I felt a tightness in my chest, and I started having shooting pains in my left arm. I blamed the headache on my sinuses and allergies. The tightess in my chest I blamed on stress. But when the pains started in my left arm, I took notice and I really started to worry. I bit the bullet and called my doctor and made a well needed doctor's appointment.
I am ashamed to admit that it had been some time since I had had a physical. I saw the doctor twice a year for my sinus infections, but other than that, I had avoided the yearly exam that NO woman joyfully says, "It's time and I am soooo very happy!" In fact, it had been about ten years since I had had an extensive physical. Don't get me wrong, I have a wonderful doctor. He is very supportive and great! I go every year for my mammograms and faithfully have the results sent to Dr. Wu's office, but that was about it.
The appointment went well. Dr. Wu, or Alfred as we call him, assured me that he would run some tests, but it could possibly be "hormonal." He even said he would schedule a CT Scan on my head for the headaches, just to rule out any brain tumors or bleeds. Aren't doctors funny? He said it so nonchallantly, like we'll rule out a hang-nail. I left feeling better for having had the physical, but with no answers to the symptoms. I went right over to the hemo-lab and gave up some blood for the cause and went home.
The next week was fall break and the CT Scan was scheduled for Wednesday. Meg was flying in the following day so we could wedding plan and I was pleased that the Scan would not take any valuable time away from the time I would spend with her. Bosco asked me if I wanted him to go with me and I almost told him, "No." So, at 10:00 we showed-up at Southeast Arizona Medical Center and I went through the process. Bosco was able to watch from the booth since the tech was our former student. Laying on the narrow table while it moved me into to scanner and listening to the clicks, I prayed a little that there would be no tumors or brain bleeds. It was over very quickly and while we were getting ready to leave, Roman asked me to wait a few minutes for the radiologist to read the films. He seemed so relaxed that we took a seat and waited. About 20 minutes later, Roman asked me to wait a few minutes longer while an ER doctor looked at the films. Okay... I was starting to worry. I looked hard at this young man whom I taught for three years in middle school and asked, "Roman, do you see something on the film?" He said yes and showed me a white dot on the film. About 10 minutes later, Roman handed me a disc, a copy of the radiology report and told me to go to lunch, then go back to Dr. Wu's office. He wanted to meet with me as soon as possible. Bosco and I just stood there looking blankly at each other, took each other's hand and walked quietly out of the hospital to our car.
Lunch was supposed to be at El Chef, home of my favorite burrito, but we picked up some McDonalds and headed for home and our computers. Bosco went to his lap top and I went to mine. Googling "Multiple Myeloma and skull lesions" probably wasn't the best idea, but we both wanted to know what the problem was. Holy Moly! I was NOT prepared for what I read. Terminal cancer. Pain. Disability. As I read the overt symptoms, this did not describe me. I was active, semi-strong, and aside from the headaches, tightening in my chest, I felt FINE!!! I finished my lunch as Bosco and I tried hard not to make too much eye contact and I picked up my purse and my phone and got ready to go to Alfred's office. Bosco's golf team had a home match and he looked so torn about having to go. I assured him I would tell him everything and besides, this was all a HUGE MISTAKE!!
What happened next was probably the scariest of all. You know how you always have to sign in at a doctor's office and wait until they call you in? Well, Susana, the doctor's receptionist, smiled at me sadly, told me to come right in and took me back to Alfred's personal office. No examing room. No scale/thermometer/blood pressure cuff. No wait. I really thought I would vomit on the floor at this point.
Alfred breezed into the room with a faxed copy of the report. I confessed and told him I had read it and Googled the information. My usually laid back, friendly, sweet friend was now serious, concerned, and was pouring over my file. He looked at my lab reports, which were normal except for a high calcium level. He told me that high levels of calcium were indicitive of either cancer or para-thyroid problems. I excitedly told him that my mother had had a tumor removed from her para-thyroid several years ago. He gave me a very serious look (no smile) and told me, "You can be only cautiously optimistic." Iasked him about Multiple Myeloma and what he told me was very serious and very sad. It's usually found in Stage 4 cancer and treatment is very severe. To be honest, it was like this was happening to someone else. It couldn't be happening to me. Then, he left to call an oncologist in Sierra Vista to discuss the report. When I left, it was back to the hemo-lab and I had a skeletal survey scheduled for the following day at the hospital.
Meg was coming home the following afternoon. Whatever would Bosco and I tell her and Jordan or the rest of our families? I drove out to the golf course, climbed in Bosco's cart, and tried very hard to hold it together while I watched my husband wipe tears off his face.
Last year about this time, I started having some health concerns. I had a nagging headache, I felt a tightness in my chest, and I started having shooting pains in my left arm. I blamed the headache on my sinuses and allergies. The tightess in my chest I blamed on stress. But when the pains started in my left arm, I took notice and I really started to worry. I bit the bullet and called my doctor and made a well needed doctor's appointment.
I am ashamed to admit that it had been some time since I had had a physical. I saw the doctor twice a year for my sinus infections, but other than that, I had avoided the yearly exam that NO woman joyfully says, "It's time and I am soooo very happy!" In fact, it had been about ten years since I had had an extensive physical. Don't get me wrong, I have a wonderful doctor. He is very supportive and great! I go every year for my mammograms and faithfully have the results sent to Dr. Wu's office, but that was about it.
The appointment went well. Dr. Wu, or Alfred as we call him, assured me that he would run some tests, but it could possibly be "hormonal." He even said he would schedule a CT Scan on my head for the headaches, just to rule out any brain tumors or bleeds. Aren't doctors funny? He said it so nonchallantly, like we'll rule out a hang-nail. I left feeling better for having had the physical, but with no answers to the symptoms. I went right over to the hemo-lab and gave up some blood for the cause and went home.
The next week was fall break and the CT Scan was scheduled for Wednesday. Meg was flying in the following day so we could wedding plan and I was pleased that the Scan would not take any valuable time away from the time I would spend with her. Bosco asked me if I wanted him to go with me and I almost told him, "No." So, at 10:00 we showed-up at Southeast Arizona Medical Center and I went through the process. Bosco was able to watch from the booth since the tech was our former student. Laying on the narrow table while it moved me into to scanner and listening to the clicks, I prayed a little that there would be no tumors or brain bleeds. It was over very quickly and while we were getting ready to leave, Roman asked me to wait a few minutes for the radiologist to read the films. He seemed so relaxed that we took a seat and waited. About 20 minutes later, Roman asked me to wait a few minutes longer while an ER doctor looked at the films. Okay... I was starting to worry. I looked hard at this young man whom I taught for three years in middle school and asked, "Roman, do you see something on the film?" He said yes and showed me a white dot on the film. About 10 minutes later, Roman handed me a disc, a copy of the radiology report and told me to go to lunch, then go back to Dr. Wu's office. He wanted to meet with me as soon as possible. Bosco and I just stood there looking blankly at each other, took each other's hand and walked quietly out of the hospital to our car.
Lunch was supposed to be at El Chef, home of my favorite burrito, but we picked up some McDonalds and headed for home and our computers. Bosco went to his lap top and I went to mine. Googling "Multiple Myeloma and skull lesions" probably wasn't the best idea, but we both wanted to know what the problem was. Holy Moly! I was NOT prepared for what I read. Terminal cancer. Pain. Disability. As I read the overt symptoms, this did not describe me. I was active, semi-strong, and aside from the headaches, tightening in my chest, I felt FINE!!! I finished my lunch as Bosco and I tried hard not to make too much eye contact and I picked up my purse and my phone and got ready to go to Alfred's office. Bosco's golf team had a home match and he looked so torn about having to go. I assured him I would tell him everything and besides, this was all a HUGE MISTAKE!!
What happened next was probably the scariest of all. You know how you always have to sign in at a doctor's office and wait until they call you in? Well, Susana, the doctor's receptionist, smiled at me sadly, told me to come right in and took me back to Alfred's personal office. No examing room. No scale/thermometer/blood pressure cuff. No wait. I really thought I would vomit on the floor at this point.
Alfred breezed into the room with a faxed copy of the report. I confessed and told him I had read it and Googled the information. My usually laid back, friendly, sweet friend was now serious, concerned, and was pouring over my file. He looked at my lab reports, which were normal except for a high calcium level. He told me that high levels of calcium were indicitive of either cancer or para-thyroid problems. I excitedly told him that my mother had had a tumor removed from her para-thyroid several years ago. He gave me a very serious look (no smile) and told me, "You can be only cautiously optimistic." Iasked him about Multiple Myeloma and what he told me was very serious and very sad. It's usually found in Stage 4 cancer and treatment is very severe. To be honest, it was like this was happening to someone else. It couldn't be happening to me. Then, he left to call an oncologist in Sierra Vista to discuss the report. When I left, it was back to the hemo-lab and I had a skeletal survey scheduled for the following day at the hospital.
Meg was coming home the following afternoon. Whatever would Bosco and I tell her and Jordan or the rest of our families? I drove out to the golf course, climbed in Bosco's cart, and tried very hard to hold it together while I watched my husband wipe tears off his face.
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