F-Cancer: A Sober Post

         I’m a little nostalgic right now.  Today is a very exciting day for me.  Not only is it the second anniversary of something for a friend of mine, but it’s also the second anniversary of my original doctor’s appointment where I started the process of finding out I had cancer.  Or, to put it more honestly and in my friend’s words, it’s the second anniversary when I started to f#@* cancer.  Rock on!

         For everyone who doesn’t know the story, here it is!

         First, the only reason I remember the day is because it was the official day that my husband and I moved into our current apartment.  We were doing a quick preliminary walk through with the rental manager and then our plan was to run over to urgent care afterward.  It was the only evening that my husband and I had off together.  We weren’t too happy about spending an hour or two at the hospital and we almost just skipped it, but our church had given us the money to get in to see a doctor (we didn’t have insurance at the time), so we decided to get it over with.  

You see, by that time I’d had a really bad ache in my chest for months.  There were nights where it would hurt so bad I couldn’t sleep and had a hard time breathing.  I thought it was probably a strained muscle, so I would get up in the middle of the night and go take a bath in scalding hot water hoping that would help.  Sometimes I’d have to sleep holding a pillow tight to my chest to kind of dull the pain.  It wasn’t my favorite thing ever.

A bump or raised area started to build up to the left of my sternum that would sometimes turn red or even a purple-ish color.  I still thought it was a strained muscle that probably just kept getting aggravated.  We didn’t have insurance and we were in a really bad financial spot we were trying to dig ourselves out of, so I just put off going and seeing a doctor.  What could they do for a muscle strain anyway?

My pastor and his wife insisted that I go and see a doctor when they heard what was up.  They gave us the money to go in.  I felt so bad about taking the money, I prayed the entire time I was in the waiting room of urgent care that there was something legitimately wrong with me so the money wouldn’t have been spent in vein.

I had to tell a couple people why I was there when I was being checked in.  Just telling them that I thought I had a strained muscle in my chest and there was a colored bump there, I got a few eye rolls.  I had no fever and the bump was barely noticeable that day.  A couple times I almost got up and walked out.

When I finally got to go back to a room, a young doctor poked his head in.  He looked about my age, possibly a little younger, and he was a little skinny guy.  I was already changed into one of those flimsy paper gowns by then.  As I talked to him, explaining what was going on, he started to frown and it quickly deepened. 

The doctor tentatively asked if he could feel the bump that I had.  I couldn’t help but laugh because he was a doctor!  Of course he could feel it.  I also found myself apologizing because it was a lot smaller that day than it had been recently.  I didn’t want him to think I was a hypochondriac.

After checking out the lump, he told me he wanted to do some blood tests and he’d be sending in a nurse to take care of that.  He’d be back after he checked out the results.  So I had my blood drawn and texted my friend while I waited for the results.  My husband sat in the corner of the room playing games on his phone.

About twenty minutes later the nurse came back in and took some more blood.  I wasn’t sure why until the doctor came back after another twenty minutes.  He leaned himself back against the counter of the sink in the room and looked a little too serious.

The doctor came right out and said that according to the blood tests they had run twice, I had a high white cell count.  That information along with the bump on my chest made it looked like I either had leukemia or lymphoma. 

Everyone that I’ve talked to who has had cancer said that this was the freak out moment.  Some people’s lives flash before their eyes, others felt like they were going to throw up or that the world had dropped out from underneath them.  This didn’t happen to me.  There were two things that I thought simultaneously; thank God it wasn’t just a strained muscle, and how the hell were we going to pay for all of this?  I think I’m a robot or something.

The doctor told me that he saw I didn’t have insurance.  Because of this, he was going to run as many tests as he could while I was there because he was afraid I was going to let this go.  He also said that he was going to send all of my information to my doctor as well as the Willamette Valley Cancer Institute so that they could be in charge of making sure I got things taken care of.

That night, I got my first IV ever for my first MRI ever.  I’ve always been afraid of needles, but this was pretty painless.  The lady who did it was very sweet and talked to me about the Bridge Program that the hospital had to help people financially.  She explained that MRI’s are pretty expensive, so I really needed to take advantage of it.

My First IV!

Hand IV!

I've lost count of what number this one was.

The MRI was actually pretty fun.  We were able to catch the people right before they went home (it was pretty late by that time…there went the idea of being at the hospital for only an hour or two).  The lady that worked the machine was extremely sweet.  We had a fun conversation and as I was leaving to go back to my corner of urgent care she got very serious and told me that I was too young and too sweet to be sick. 

That statement kind of threw me.  I wasn’t sick.  Even if I had cancer I wasn’t sick.  This was also the first time out many that I heard this statement.  Each time I heard it I wanted to scream, “I’M NOT SICK!”  But I knew that they meant well and didn’t realize that my kind of cancer was just a nuisance, it wasn’t a disease.

It was very late by the time that we left to go home.  During the time we were there my husband just sat and played his phone games.  He didn’t even seem like he heard what was going on.  I finally talked to him about it about a week ago, wondering what his deal was.  He said that he figured it didn’t help to get upset about any of the stuff we were hearing, that we would get through it one way or another.  He also knew that if he didn’t occupy his mind, he would start freak out.  I absolutely understand.

What got me through that night was texting with my friend.  We joked and shared some fun stories that night.  I’d rather crack jokes than get too serious about things and my friend is the same way.  It was perfect.

My other friend, who worked at the hospital, started her shift around the time that we were leaving.  I let her know that we were there and she was sweet enough to pick up some food for us.  That helped more than I can express.

The next day was a bear of a day; fighting with my regular doctor’s office who refused to do anything for me because I didn’t have insurance anymore.  Even trying to get all the information sent over to the WVCI from the hospital took forever because of my regular doctor’s refusal to help.  With the help of my Mom and my boss, things finally got sent through.

Two months later after two different biopsies (that have very fun stories to go along with them which I may tell at some other time); I was finally diagnosed with Hodgkins Lymphoma.  I had my first PET scan on my 25^th birthday (happy birthday to me) where I found out that I was in stage two. 

My Sweet Biopsy Scar (People kept asking me why I'd put tape on my neck)

The PET scan also showed why I’d been having pain and swelling in my chest.  A lymph node under my sternum was backed up with fluid and swelling to about three times the size of what it was supposed to be.  This shoved any excess fluid back into my chest where it culminated and swelled, hence the bump.  As for the pain, that was because the swollen lymph node was pressing up against my sternum and bending it, giving it what they called “sternal sclerosis.”  Ow.

My oncologist (whom I call my “Wilson” after the oncologist on “House”), is absolutely great.  He let me finish spring term for school before we started chemo.  I opted to have a catheter put in during this time because it was so hard to find my veins.  For my first treatment we put in the catheter, did a bone marrow biopsy, and then went ahead with the chemo.  Afterward I went to Target with my husband and shopped around for a bit.  It was a pretty good day.

Later that day...yes, those are tubes coming out of my chest.  (That catheter didn't last long).

The only time I cried about the whole cancer situation was that first night after urgent care.  I found myself lying in bed trying to figure out how we were going to pay for everything.  I’ve still never gone though a mourning period about having cancer.  God took care of that and finally gave me peace over the financial situation as well.  We had a lot of help including a program through WVCI and the Bridge Program through Peach Health.  There were also some anonymous donations to us and a fund raiser both through my work and through my family.  God used the people and programs around me to get us through everything.

Many things strange happened during the every other week for four months chemo treatments.  They are really good stories, but it would take too long to write about them right now.   All in all, it was an adventure that I am extremely thankful for.  I couldn’t have gotten through it without my Savior, my husband, my family, my friends, my co-workers, and my doctors and nurses.  I am so blessed.  That’s why this anniversary makes me excited rather than depressed.  Janna, you’re right; it was two years ago that I started to f#@* cancer.  Like a boss.  Hodgkins Lymphoma is my bitch.  BAM!

The Mams and I for my last procedure.

BONUS PIC!  Bald Me.