When we got to the doctor’s office, they took us back almost
immediately, and my doctor came in to the exam room to deliver the news. He
started with “unfortunately…” and put his hand on my shoulder. I just took a
deep breath and listened as he told me and John about how the chemo wasn’t
working and the CAT scan had detected several lesions on my liver. Me and John
just looked at each other, stunned. I was too scared and too surprised to cry.
I was just so sure that the chemo was working. My doctor ordered an x-ray on my
leg to see if the radiation had helped at all, and to ensure I didn’t have a
fracture, so I could start physical therapy. Over in the Radiology department at
the hospital, it was dead. After all, it was 4:00 PM on New Year’s Eve. While
everyone was off making big party plans, me and John sat alone in the waiting
area, quietly wiping tears, trying to hold it together. The x-ray technician
had to lift me out of my wheelchair and hold me on the table because I
literally could not move my lower body. He told me to hang in there and as long
as I didn’t have disease in my liver, I would be fine. “You will do great as
long as it’s not in your liver; anywhere but your liver…” he said. Then I told
him that I had found out an hour earlier that it was in my liver. He said, “Oh,
well you will still be fine, I just know it.” He was embarrassed for putting
his foot in his mouth, and I was kind to him. He didn’t mean it badly. In
addition to that, he had been carrying my 150 pound ass all over the exam room,
so I had to cut him a little slack. On the way home, I said something like, “well
this is it, this is how I’m going to die…” but John never accepted that. He
just told me I was going to make it. I think he said it 2-3 times during the
ride home. Maybe he was trying to convince himself.
When we got home, all I wanted was to watch something
mindless and funny on television, and have a double cheeseburger from Burger
King. I was afraid to eat onion rings because they always give me indigestion,
and I knew that my mind would trick me into thinking those tumors on my liver were
the cause. After we ate, I had to call my sister because I knew she would be
wondering what was going on. She had been at work all day and I was off (I was
working from home, but had vacation time that day). John went into the office bedroom
because he couldn’t stand to hear the conversation between me and Cat. As soon as I heard her voice I started crying
really hard and she knew. We cried together and she agreed to break the news to
our parents. I just couldn’t do it. I wasn’t even sure how I would be able to
look at my parents without crying, much less be able to tell them the awful
news. After me and Cat got off the phone, I cried really hard for about a half
hour, then I called for John to come back into the living room so we could
watch something funny. We flipped channels and found “Paul Blart - Mall Cop” on
one of the movie channels. Normally, movies like that don’t do much for me, but
it was just what both of us needed. We laughed throughout the whole movie. I
was still scared and worried, but for an hour and a half, it was nice to laugh
and think about something else.
Today, three years later, my life is so different. I’ve had
lots of ups and downs since then. But today, I’m up walking around – no scooting
down steps on my butt LOL. I’m working in the office instead of at home,
propped up in bed. As of October 24, my liver is still clear of tumors (next
scan is at the end of January). I spent this afternoon cuddling on the couch
with my pup, helping John install a window sill in one on our bathrooms, and
eating a great homemade Indian meal that John made after he finished the window
work. Now we are watching the Twilight Zone marathon on the Sci Fi channel and
my mind is much more at ease. I still get really scared, but three years ago, I
didn’t think I would live to see another New Years Eve, much less three more
New Year’s Eves!! To be honest, this post is hard to write, because thinking
about how things were three years ago still scares me to death. Sometimes it’s
hard to believe it even happened. It’s like something you read in a book or see
in a movie. But I need to think of how awful
things were, so when I have a self pity moment, I’ll remember how great my life really is now.
