Friday, June 17, 2011

The Waiting Game, Part Deux

the view across the building of the chemo unit. blech.
Two posts in two days?!? 

I am trying to distract myself while waiting on a return call from Dr. Henry.  Knowing I shouldn't be holding my breath (not that I could if I wanted to), I would really like to hear something good.  While waiting for results, the mind (my mind) tends to create potential scenarios to prepare for any number of words to be heard over the phone.  Here are some of them:

Option #1:  We've looked over the scan and found you are no longer in remission.  Pls report to the hospital immediately so we can begin your stem cell transplant.

Option #2:  Upon looking at the scan, and hearing about your persistent symptoms, we believe it's in your best interest to begin a loooooooong regimen of prednisone (aka pukey p) to relieve the inflammation in your lungs.  This will be at least 5 months.  You will gain 50 pounds and become a royal P.I.T.A. (or, as they say, irritable).

Option #3:  We think the lymphoma is okay (without a PET, we can't say for certain), but we believe you are now suffering from Orthostatic Intolerance/Tachycardia.   You may continue to feel tired, lightheaded, poopy and just "off" indefinitely.

Option #4:  No call (current state).  Continued waiting and worrying, creating my own diagnoses via Google search box in upper righthand corner of my screen.

I am sick of possible scenarios.
I am sick of waiting, of bad news, of disappointment.
I am sick of feeling sick, of fatigue, of being a patient.
I am sick of cancer, of people dying, of grief, of people worrying, of uncertainty, of living in fear, of not being able to enjoy the moment.

My positive spin comes in the form of giggles, songs and squeals. 


ps. If anyone reading this is able to get Dr. Henry to call back any faster, your pull would be much appreciated right now.


  1. Frankly, given everything, I think you sound remarkably patient. Drs who we hire, no matter how exceptional, are poops when then don't call back. Just a-- we're still waiting too or sorry this is taking so long or shucks did I forget to call?-- any of the above would work, even it's his assistant. Meanwhile, your dervishes are spinning and we all are around you with our love. And for what it's worth, David with his oversized shades and Casey with a cast-looking bandage up to his shaved hip all send greetings from the West Coast Diamond recovery ward.

  2. That is very difficult, bordering on torture.
    I'm sorry they are doing that. Will put song-
    "Call Me" (Al Green) on CD player and think
    of you.


  3. You rock! I am sure your teacher training makes you the patient champ that you are! I know I like things when I want them. Sending you super healthy California sunshine vibes. xoxoxox