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Looking Back at the Big Baby

May 25, 2010

The lesson here, people, is that I should have my phone calls returned immediately. Because if they are not returned in a timely (to me) fashion, I will plan my funeral.

The oncologist’s nurse called me a little bit ago and it’s the doctor’s opinion that this is nothing more than a hematoma (little sack o’blood) because a tumor couldn’t pop up and grow this fast while I was on chemo.

“Are you sure this isn’t a tumor that was undetected before my surgery because it was across the line from where my MRI, ultrasounds and chest x-ray were?” I asked the nurse. Who didn’t chuckle but said, “We’ll do an exam when you come in next week and decide if anything else needs to be done, but it’s unlikely that it’s a tumor.”

Okay. I believe her. But I’m not going to admit to that because if I do it will magically become a tumor and I won’t make it to chemo next week.

Imagine what torture I’m putting my poor husband through, what with all the drama and insisting that things are worse than they really are. I do this so that when it becomes a fact that things are not so bad, I can let out a huge sigh of relief. I’m wearing myself out!

I said to The Big Nugget this morning, “I can’t wait until the day I can say ‘Man! I was such a big baby through all of that!'” I can’t remember exactly what he said about that statement but it had something to do with the fact that one of us has already figured out just what a big baby I was through all of that.

One week to chemo #5 and I plan to do as much as I can to get ready for Thing 2’s graduation party.  Because I know, for sure, that something else is going to smack me upside of the head after this round of chemo, just like it has every other round of chemo: folliculitis, lymphedema, seratoma-change to-hematoma, in a tumor suit.

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8 Comments leave one →
  1. Mary permalink
    May 25, 2010 6:26 pm

    Right there with ya. I’ve secretly planned my funeral a couple of times thinking that the end was in sight. And I realized that there won’t be any pictures of me because I’m the one TAKING all of the damn photos.

    Can’t wait until all of this is in the rearview mirror for you.

    -Mary

  2. Leslie permalink
    May 25, 2010 8:31 pm

    I hate when they don’t return calls … about 15 years ago I spent a whole weekend prostrate on the couch after a stupid medical office person called and left a message at 4:55 p.m. on Friday … telling me to call the doctor’s office back “as soon as possible” regarding my chest x-rays. Of course the office was closed by 5 p.m. and I can’t even imagine how my husband survived the weekend while I fell apart in a not very pretty way. It wasn’t just the funeral I planned … I even conjured up the next wife, who I desperately hoped would be kind to my two young daughters.

    Turned out the idiot just wanted to let me know the results were “unremarkable” – but it wasn’t until Monday I was able to get through t0 their office. Hate.

    I’m glad you were able to get back to the doc – and it makes total sense that no tumor would be growing in the midst of chemo.

    I think you are coming out the other side now – can you see some light beaming your way? I hope so, because even though I know you don’t want to hear that anyone thinks you are brave … I do, though. I think you are leaving hell now … no return passes given.

  3. May 25, 2010 9:10 pm

    “Tumor suit”. Only you can come up with these lines.

  4. dan permalink
    May 25, 2010 10:05 pm

    you NEDD to get POSITIVE the lower side is winning SO GET POSITIVE

  5. Floweer permalink
    May 26, 2010 5:27 am

    When all this is done – and you do look back – you need to know you made a difference for anyone else going through this process. You have been informative – honest – and real. I am truly picturing that you will finish your training – and armed with your personal experiences – you will help someone else through this nightmare. You will also redecorate all the chemo suites – and set up 24 hour immediate response to all questions. You are making lemonade out of lemons.
    Ice cream?

  6. Sue permalink
    May 26, 2010 8:27 am

    Oh my gosh, you make me laugh! You have the right to be a big baby. Cry, get it over with, and look foward! You’re almost done with the chemo! Tumor suit, hahaha!

  7. Claudia permalink
    May 26, 2010 12:54 pm

    That’s a great and insightful phrase — tumor suit. It resonates in my life and I’d guess in just about anyone and everyone’s.

    Lots of love from NYC!!! xoxo

  8. May 29, 2010 8:33 pm

    I have no idea how you’re dealing w/the Day2day of this, particularly being at the mercy of others’ competence. That’s why I’ve worked for myself for so long. Thinking of u and rooting thru for more goofy postcards…

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