Scans, biopsies, and chemo....oh my!

As per usual, I need to apologize for the hiatus. A combination of starting a new job, the holidays and limited access to my computer caused me to be absent from my blog. But with a wonderful gift of a new macbook (thanks hubby), I will have more opportunities to write! So on with my story.

After spending the Thanksgiving holiday with family and friends, where I spent the majority of time thinking about how the next holiday I would come home for (Christmas), I would do so with no hair (it was an obsession of my thoughts); I returned back to St. John's to attend all my appointments. My dad also flew into St. John's to meet us. Now that we knew what was going to happen, he came home to be with us. When I saw him for the first time, my greeting to him was "hard way to try to lose a bit of weight hey?". This was my attempt to not be upset around family but of course there were tears when we hugged.

 My first appointment, was a gallium scan. I had never heard of such a thing before, but basically it was a scan that involved me being injected with a solution that contained radioactive isotopes, waiting 48 hours, then returning to the hospital to have the actual scan done. The scan involved me lying down on a table and having a machine go over the top of me slowly (took about 20 minutes), but it didn't have a claustrophobic feeling as I wasn't enclosed in anything. The scan would be able to show where cancer was present in my body because the cancer would absorb the radioactive isotopes and it would "glow", as I was told. I'm sure there is a more scientific way of putting that, but thats what I took from it. Now we already knew there was cancer in my body, but this scan would show if it was anywhere else in my body or if my lymph nodes were involved, and this would then give the doctors what stage my cancer was in. All throughout this process, I wasn't really worried about the results as I was still kind of in a bubble of numbness. I was just showing up to appointments and doing what they told me. Fortunately for me, the scan revealed the cancer was contained to just the one mass in my chest, putting my cancer in stage 1.

Up next was a bone marrow biopsy. This was a procedure that I was very nervous about. It is sometimes nice to not know what's coming and I felt I knew too much about this one. I knew it was a relevantly straight forward procedure, but I was really nervous over the fact that a needle was going to go through my bone, and that I would be awake for it. At least I knew that fact going in this time, and it wasn't an unpleasant surprise once I was in there. While sitting in the waiting room, I can remember just watching the clock. All my thoughts were racing through my mind, my nervousness causing the heights of anxiety, and once again, the words "I'm fine" being my response to being asked how I was. Of course, this was the appointment that I was late getting in for. Every minute that passed, it took all my strength to not bolt from the waiting room. I had been told that some people have described having this procedure done as nothing more then having blood drawn. I held on to that hope but I would soon be let down.

I was finally called in and was escorted into a room where the procedure would happen. Mom, dad, and Karla all came to the appointment, but only mom came in with me. Essentially all I remember is a room with a table and how nervous I was. I was instructed to lie on my side, and they draped a sheet with a hole in it over my hip. They sterilized the area and moved on to putting in freezing. This wasn't the most pleasant feeling. It was the same burning feeling I had had in my chest during my ct guided biopsy. Once they allowed the freezing to set, they started with extracting the bone marrow. As I was on my side, I couldn't see what was happening, and nor would I look if I could. I remember the pain of Dr A trying to get into the bone. Even with freezing, I was still feeling pain. I tried not focus on it, and both my mom and the nurse were trying to distract me from it, but with the pain I was feeling and the force Dr A was using trying to get the needle into my bone, it was hard to focus on what they were saying. I remember mom saying that the next time she would hold my hand like she was then would be when they put an epidural in for when I had children, and I remember the nurse trying to get me to talk hockey. It was hard to focus on them, but their effort was appreciated. Finally, after all the pain, Dr. A had finished, or so I thought. He then announced that the sample he gotten wasn't good and he would have to go back in. By this point, tears were rolling down my face but we repeated the procedure. Once again, there was pain and forceful pushing, and all the while, both me and mom cried while she held my hand. Dr. A is a not a very big man and he worked like a dog to get a sample from me. Finally, he announced he had it, and with that, he bent down and kissed my cheek. This was very uncharacteristic of him. He was known for being cold and non personable, but that act of kindness was so dear of him. He knew the pain I was just put through as he said I had the hardest female bone he has ever had to get through. A fact that will be great when I'm 80 and I fall, but on that day it wasn't beneficial for me. When Dr. A left the room, the nurse looked at me in disbelief. She couldn't get over that he had shown affection towards me. She said that she has been his nurse for 20 something years and if she just stopped showing up it would be weeks later (if ever) that he would say something along the lines of "what ever happened to that nurse that use to be here?".  I laugh when I think of her saying that now, but at the time I was in a lot of pain to see the humour. We left the hospital that day with me hobbling along, and we returned to our apartment for me the rest.

This was a jam packed week where I spent a lot of time in the hospital. All of these things had to happen to get to my first chemo appointment that was to happen on the Friday of that week. I learned more medical terminology and experienced more procedures in less than a month then I had throughout my whole life. My bone marrow biopsy results wouldn't be back for a couple of weeks, but the plan of chemo was to go ahead as scheduled. I wondered how many more unknowns could I face after the week I had just had, but this was just the beginning. Up next, round 1 chemotherapy.

-K

Once again, I would like to thank everyone who continues to read my blog, I appreciate every kind word I receive and I hope me sharing my experience can help others in similar situations. Hoping everyone is enjoying the holidays and wishing good health to you all in the new year! 

Acceptance

I want to apologize for my hiatus from my blog. This time of year is always full of so many memories, so sometimes it is hard for me to put my thoughts into words. I sat down multiple times to try and create another post but found it difficult. I am back now and will try to continue to post regularly. Now back to my story....

After receiving the phone call that I had an appointment with Doctor A, I didn't sit and cry. I was fully aware that I was going to hear that I have cancer but I think I was numb. Things still didn't feel real to me. Other than chest pains, and a sometimes  having a wheezing sound when I got out of breath or laughed, I felt perfectly fine. People with cancer are sickly, aren't they? Not being able to accept that is what kept me from being fully aware or actually accepting what I was going to hear.

My appointment with Doctor A was in an examine room, and since they are not the biggest, I couldn't take my full entourage with me. So off I went with mom and Karla. I can remember sitting in the waiting room waiting to be called in and noticing the people around me. I was being seen in the ambulatory clinic so not all the people there were cancer patients. But some were and they sat with no hair, or had turbans on. I remember one woman in a hat explaining to a man next to her about how fortunate she was that her hair loss was only on the top of her head, so she can wear hats and no one can tell the difference. And she was right. Her hair was about shoulder length and I wouldn't have had any idea. But then my thoughts went to what was under the hat and it horrified me. I pictured the same happening to me and having to look at myself with essentially what would be a skullet. Fortunately I did not have to wait long before being called in, so I didn't have a long time to dwell on that thought but that image was now imprinted in my brain.

Doctor A saw me in an examine room like any other one but we just sat in regular chairs. He wasn't examining me today, just reading results. We gathered in the room and he was very direct, to the point, and laid it all out for us. My official diagnosis was Stage 1, Mediastinal Diffuse Large B Cell, Non Hodgkin Lymphoma. He went on to explain that the treatment plan for me was to receive chemotherapy and that it would begin the following week. The skullet thought popped into my head again here and I asked him about my hair--would I lose it? He told me that some people hold on to their hair, while others see that it thins out, and some lose it completely. I wish I could say that I wasn't bothered by this, but I was. I began to cry at this point and I didn't hear much of anything else. I didn't realize I was a vain person until that day, but losing my hair at the age of twenty two devastated me. Hearing a doctor tell me that, is what  made it finally sink in for me. Everything was becoming real and it happening quickly. While I sat and wept, Dr. A was explaining to mom that I would have to have a couple of scans and a bone marrow biopsy done before I could start chemo. He had all those booked and she was writing down times, where they would be and so on. A piece of advise for anyone going to an appointment such as this---take someone with you. I was absorbing nothing being said at this point. If it wasn't for my mom, I don't think I would of made those appointments. I do remember him saying that the type of chemo I would be receiving (there is more than one kind?!) was a kind that doesn't affect fertility and that I would be able to have children later in life. That should of been a bright side of all he was saying but in my state of mind in that moment, talking about having children was irrelevant. I was being told that I had cancer. Having kids was the furthest thing from my mind. I zoned out again, but I am sure everything he was saying was very important but I just wasn't hearing much of it. *The movie 50/50 does an excellent job of portraying this kind of appointment. You hear that the people are talking, but the shock/numbness you are experiencing doesn't allow you absorb anything being said. Great movie, check it out*. I do remember hearing that the form of lymphoma I had was one that was unlikely to reoccur once it was gone. Again, another good point. But I was thinking that doesn't help me now. Right now I have it and I couldn't see past that. I can't say how long we were in that room. Most of it was a blur and I was weeping throughout it. When the three of us got up to leave, Dr A touched me on the arm and made eye contact with me. All he said was "Karen, we are going to beat this". I just nodded my head but I can't say I believed him.

The three of us left the hospital, still crying, and returned to mine and Karla's apartment. Over and over in my head, I was thinking, I have cancer. I had so many different emotions flooding through me. I just wanted to run from it all, but obviously I couldn't. I went into my bedroom, closed the door and let myself have a good cry. None of this quiet, weeping bullshit I had done during the appointment. I put my face in a pillow and screamed out my frustration. I was 22 years old. Why the fuck did I have cancer? I've always had an active lifestyle and I didn't smoke. How the hell had this happen?  I felt an overwhelming sense of unfairness. I didn't want to die. This couldn't be how my life was written out. I wasn't finished University yet. I wasn't married. I hadn't gotten to do so many things I wanted to do. I sat and cried. My thoughts then went to my family, to Lee, to my friends. How terrified they were for me. How seeing me upset would cause them to also be upset. That's when I decided I wouldn't spend my time sat in my room, crying and upset. I didn't want to see everyone else upset so I was going to do my best to also not be. I left my room and went out to Karla and mom and said to them "No one better make a fucking Facebook group about me and cancer". I think that's the first time we laughed in days. But although funny, I was serious. I wasn't going to be hiding the fact I had cancer, but I also didn't want to be the talk of everyone. I wasn't ready to have it all on display, and that stayed true as here it is, 8 years later, and I am just now able to open up in this way. I think that crying session and having time with my own thoughts was the turn in my "I can't believe this" way of thinking. I had a diagnosis, a treatment plan, and it was underway. I knew no one deserved to have to go through anything like this, but people do. I was starting to accept what was happening.

Myself, Lee and Mom were hoping to leave for Bishop's Falls that day after my appointment as it was Thanksgiving weekend and we were going home for it. But I had to have another (I should of kept count over the years) cat scan done the next morning. From being so tuned out at my appointment, I didn't even know why I was having another one. So we postponed until the next day.

That morning I went back to the hospital, drank my cups of contrast that I was becoming accustomed to, had my CT, and we hit the road. It was Friday, and I was able to go home for the holiday. Since Monday was the holiday, I didn't have to be back at the hospital until Tuesday when I would be having a gallium scan (wtf is that?), and Wednesday I would have my bone marrow biopsy done. The two of those needed to be completed so that I could start chemo on that Friday. So we went home to have our last "normal" holiday.

We got home and I was greeted by my friend Amy who had the most Amy-like card made up.

Obviously I still have this. It was too good not to keep. But on that day, this is exactly what I needed. Thank-you Amy. Humor was my new way of dealing with cancer. I was not going to let it take away my laughter, my spirit, or my laid back way of life.

I went to bring Lee home and had to also had to stop in a convenience for milk. Why does that stand out in my mind? Well my hometown is a relatively small place. And even though I was 4 hours away, going through all this, the majority of the town knew what I was going through. I think this aided in me being so private about it all. I didn't want to be the talk of the town. But once I entered that store that day, I knew that I was. I walked in and there were a few people in the store. When they saw who had come in, it went completely silent. I didn't overly know these people, but I knew they knew who I was. It was the most awkward experience of my life. It lead me to believe that I might of even been the topic of conversation before going in there. So I just went to the cooler, got the milk, paid, and left. No one spoke to me, and I didn't speak to them. I later learned that I was the talk of a lot of people, and friends and family were being asked questions about me. Most times those questions also included things like "well I heard they can't do anything for her" or "I heard the surgery (?) didn't go well", so all kind of things were being twisted about what was going on. No wonder the people in that store looked at me the way they did...they had me one foot in the grave. This is my love/hate relationship with small towns.

After such a bizarre experience, I brought Lee to his house. In that car I told him how scared I was and wish it wasn't happening. In previous days I had told Lee that I would hold no grudge against him if he wanted to leave. I didn't want him to go through this, and if something were to happen to me it would be too hard on him. He had told me the only way he was leaving me was if I broke up with him, and that wouldn't stop him because he would just be by every day anyways. Well that night, in fewer words, he reinforced that he was in it for the long haul. He told me that I had to promise him that when WE beat this, that I would never do it to him again. I don't think he could ever know what those words meant to me. I had so many uncertainties facing me. But one thing I did know, from those few words, I was sure I would marry him one day.

My world was changing at a very fast pace and I had zero control over any of it. But the first step in getting better, is accepting what you are faced with. I was ready to take this on. I was still scared shitless, but I was ready to go. One last weekend home with family and friends. Tuesday, it was go time.

-K

Thank you again for reading my blog! It continues to help me and I hope you all are enjoying reading my story. Thank you again and feel free to share!

The waiting game...

Once again, I want to thank everyone who has taken time out of their day to read my blog. I am blown away with how many views I am getting. It is so appreciated! Continue to share my story, especially with anyone you feel could benefit from hearing it.

Now back to 2007.

After I had my biopsy done, there was a lot of time to sit and think. The doctor I was under wanted me to remain in hospital until they had the results. To me, this was ludacris because for one, I didn't feel sick, and two, I could be attending my university classes. I was in my second semester of the fast track education program and had no thoughts of losing time there. So I was granted a few days out of the hospital initially. I "celebrated" my twenty-second birthday at home. The party that had been planned obviously was cancelled, and we just went out to supper. Mom was able to return to Bishop's to get things she wanted and needed, as the night she got the call from Karla at the hospital, she essentially hopped in the car and came on out. I got to go to a couple of classes and give my professors an explanation of my absences. This was essentially it before they had me sucked back into the hospital.

When I was readmitted I was able to go into a semi-private room with just one roommate. I was thankful for this as I hoped it meant the nights would be quieter. They might have been if I was put in the unit I was suppose to go on, but of course that didn't happen. My new neighbors average age was around the mid 80's, and quiet, they were not. The nights were always awful with sounds of moaning, people calling out to no one in particular I don't believe, and the one gentleman who during the day you didn't know existed, but once night fell he was constantly yelling "HELP! HELP ME! OH WHY DON'T YOU HELP ME?". My heart went out to him but I do believe he was like an infant with his days and nights mixed up! On top of all the sounds, I was being woken up multiple times a night by nurse to take my vitals. Yes, I know this is standard. I come from a house of nurses and appreciate all you do, but my temperature, blood pressure, etc. remained the same all the time as my only issue was the bloody mass in my chest! Help a girl out and just record same as before! I wasn't admitted long until Ativan became my new best friend at bedtime.

I was a very low maintenance patient and became one the nurses all liked to have. They referred to me as a "walkie talkie", in the sense I could walk on my own, go to the bathroom alone and could coherently express my wants and needs. I would see them walking some of the other patients in the halls, and my favorite I remember was an elderly lady (meanwhile they all were elderly) who refused to leave her room without her bright red lipstick on. I would see her day after day walking and always, her lipstick would be on point. Once when I passed her and said hello she greeted me the same but then looked down and with a horrified expression she yelled "Why am I in my pyjamas?!". I always think of her now when I see people sporting bright red  lips. I also learned that when your roommate gets a visit from a nurse who pulls the curtain around when she arrives, to get the hell out of there quick. There is nothing glamorous about adult diapering. For how quickly I could get out of a hospital bed and out of the room, I figured when this was all over I would be ready for a career in track and field.

I didn't find my time in hospital lonely. Other than the nights, I was rarely alone. My mom, Karla, and Lee were with me constantly. I would try to get Karla to go to work but she continued to come. I made sure Lee attended his classes, but other than that he was there. I had an over flowing amount of visitors come see me. For this reason, I spent a lot of time in the family lounge so that everyone could at least sit. I appreciated these visits so much. It would really break up the days for us. The continuous waiting was endless. 

My dad had returned to Alberta for work the week before I went in hospital. It took a lot to keep him there, but him flying home to sit around didn't make a lot of sense. Whatever it was in my chest, had to come out, so it was decided for him that he should stay there until we know what the plan was. I know that was torturous for him, to be away while it was all happening. We had each other, but he was alone.

Due to the floor I was on, there was rarely anyone in the family lounge. The elderly patients generally didn't have a big number of visitors at a time, so we kind of took it over. It abled me to not have to be lying in a bed all day (I still felt by no means sick), it allowed my visitors a place where we could sit, and it also helped me dodge the visits from the nuns. I hate to sound heathen-like, but I am not catholic, nor was I looking for someone to come pray with me. I think it is wonderful what they do, and I witnessed so many people who benefited from it, but I think when being admitted there should be somewhere you can opt out of those visits. I felt praying was being forced on me so I did my best to avoid having to say no thank you to a nun. It was a good day if I returned to my room and there was a note saying "Sorry I missed you, Sister Flo". I also didn't look no more like any other of the patients so if they did see me, they didn't know I belonged there. Advantage- Karen.

A little more than a week after my biopsy, a doctor came by and sat down with us. She told us that the sample they collected has led them to believe my mass was one of two things; either a tumor of my thymus, or lymphoma. They were not certain at this point and more tests needed to be performed but they were leaning towards lymphoma. This didn't hit me like a ton of bricks at this moment because I knew it had to be something and I had no clue what lymphoma was. I think back to how naïve I was in this moment. I believe I lost a lot of innocence in the next coming words. She went on to say I would be meeting with a surgeon at this hospital in the possibility that its a tumor of my thymus and that doctor would remove it. I would also be sent to the other hospital in the city to meet with a doctor up there who I would then deal with if it was lymphoma. There would be no surgery if it's lymphoma, I would receive medicine. At this point, I was thinking medicine? Sign me up, that's not a big deal! I blame my innocence here, and the fact the doctor didn't say lymphoma is a form of cancer. So when I asked what kind of medicine and she responded with chemotherapy, I completely broke down. I'm sure you are reading this and thinking how could I be so shocked? But I honestly didn't feel I had cancer. I was 22, I wasn't sick. I just couldn't believe that I could have cancer. I'm sure this doctor said more after this, but I can't tell you a word of it. I don't think she stayed much longer. I just remember how upset we all were. I know Lee left to make a phone call (no cell phones used in the hospital in 2007), and later I learned he called home to his family in Bishop's and that's where he broke down. He hid it from me so well, I was none the wiser. I also remember me and mom sitting in my bed and just crying so much. She was telling me how she wished it was her, and not me. To this day when I think of that moment I cry. I can't imagine how awful and helpless it is to watch your child go through this, even if I was considered an adult. It was one of the hardest days so far, and I don't remember much more of that day.

It was hard to say of the two options, which one I was rooting for. It felt as though a coin was being flipped and it could go either way. I couldn't say that I was hoping for cancer, but the thought of having my chest crack scared the living shit out of me. It was a thought I was having trouble wrapping my head around, but when the other option is cancer, you don't know which to root for. It was a game of "Would you rather..." that really didn't have a clear winner.

In the coming days I met with the surgeon at that hospital who would remove my mass if it turned out to be a tumor of my thymus. This was an interesting meeting and I don't remember much about it, other than her introducing herself. The interesting part is, this woman was someone who I played ball hockey against for many years. As she was a goalie, she didn't recognize me, but all I could think was "A goalie is going to crack my chest and remove a tumor...wtf?". It was one of the oddest days in hospital, which ended (after a tip from a nurse) with a game of a rumoli and a few drinks of rum down in the vending machine area of the hospital. Of course this was kept secret, but with what we were dealing with, I think it was more than justified.

The next day we were sent up to meet with a hematologist who would take on my case if the biopsy concluded that my mass was in fact lymphoma. He was an older man who laid out all the facts point blank to us. If I were to return to him, I was more than prepared. I learned a little more about what lymphoma was and how there were different types. He didn't go into much more detail, just that I would need more scans and a bone marrow biopsy done if I return. I may never see this man again, but if I do, it meant I had cancer.

When we returned to the hospital we really put a lot of thought into how pointless, me being admitted actually was. I could be waiting at home for a phone call telling me that I was either seeing doctor M for surgery, or doctor A for chemo. It had been days since I had last seen the attending that was looking over my case. Each day I was being told she would be by to see me and never showed. Apparently I was sick enough to be in hospital, but not sick enough to be a priority to be seen. With nothing less than a threat of that we were leaving the hospital, the doctor finally came to see me late one evening. After much discussion I was finally being discharged and granted the ability to wait at home.

Once I was home, we returned to a somewhat "normal" life. I went to my classes, Karla to work, but mom stayed with us in St. John's. We knew the call was coming soon, so there wasn't a point of her returning home, four hours away. We didn't wait too long.

On October 3rd, the phone call came in with an appointment for me.  It was for the next day, and it was with doctor A.

I. Have. Cancer.


- K

Biopsy

The last week has been quite an eventful one so I have been limited to the one post. I had the pleasure of turning 30 and getting spoiled with a surprise party and things that have kept me busy. On a much sadder note, I received news on Saturday of the sudden passing of a former colleague/principal. Gone far too soon, he was one of the greats. I've been filled with such confusion and many emotions and unsure how to deal with it all, so I am turning to my writing for a therapy session. While thoughts of him are never far from my mind, I'll continue with my story.

First of all; thank you. thank you, thank you for all the positive feedback from my first post. I've had messages, calls, and even people stopping me out and about, saying the kindest words. I greatly appreciate it and am very encouraged to continue to write. I feel if more stories like mine is shared, the more equipped people will be if they are ever faced with a similar situation.


Back to September, 2008.


I was admitted into the hospital on the 20th of September, but because of lack of beds in the hospital, it wasn't until around 5pm, so no biopsy was to be done that day. I also got the pleasure of going into one of those rooms with 3 other people as there were no private or semi-private available, and also was put on the wrong floor as there were no beds where I needed to be. At this point, I am scared out of my Jesus mind, got 3 other people and families gawking at me, and am having no procedure done. Awesome. I can remember telling mom, Karla, and Lee to go on home and come back in the morning, but they lingered around until visiting hours were over. When they did finally leave, I walked out in the hall with them and hugged them as they left. When I went back into my room and drew the curtain close for "privacy", there, I finally allowed the tears I had held back all day fall. I cried a lot that night, until I would finally fall asleep. This happened throughout the course of the night. Cry, sleep, be woken by a roommate/nurse/hospital bustle, repeat.


The next day I was scheduled to have a biopsy of my mass done. I didn't know what time, just that at some point I would be taken to have it done. I was also told that first night in emerge, that the biopsy would entail me being put to sleep (this put me at ease), a small incision would be made on my side and they would go in through there to collect a sample of the mass. Seemed simple enough but I was still nervous as hell. Their belief was the mass was in or around my lung, so being put to sleep was a bit of a comfort to me.


Mom, Karla, and Lee arrived in the morning. We sat around in the lounge of that floor, waiting to be called. Once again it was a day of waiting. I remember sitting, not really being able to follow the conversations around me as my nerves were getting the better of me. Lee offered me one of his ear buds to his ipod and he played U2- The sweetest thing (it's funny how you can remember such details in these situations and we sat and listened. It was easier than trying to talk. Eventually Lee had a class that I insisted on he go to, and Karla had a dentist appointment. We had no idea when (or if) I would be done that day so I told both to go. Not long after they left, a nurse came and told us someone was coming for me. Finally it was time.

Back in my room I was met by a man with a wheelchair. He informed me that he would be taking me to radiology. There, in my hospital room, at the age of 21 years old, I broke into tears and hugged my mom like a little girl. I could of probably stayed like forever but we were interrupted by one of my nosey roommates asking me where I was going and a "sure that's no big deal" to follow. It was much easier to go in the wheelchair after her helpful two cents.

I was brought down to radiology where a technician informs me of the procedure and explains it all. She tells me I am going to be having a CT guided biopsy and how they'll send me through the machine to get an image and locate my mass, and then they would enter a device that would collect a sample of the mass. All the while, she tapping her own chest when explaining the device going in. That is where I had to stop her. WTF happened to being put to sleep, going through my side, and everything I had been told?! She had no idea why I would of been told that. I would be awake for it and the needle would go through my chest (no worries though, there would be freezing given to the area). So you can imagine at this point my head is spinning. She then moves to getting me to sign a consent form after explaining the risks and all. The only risk I remember hearing is a possible  punctured lung and I can remember how much my hand was shaking when signing.

This is now the point mom is to leave and wait outside. I wish I could say this is where I sucked it up and composed myself.....not so much. I lost it and I was shaking uncontrollably. I also knew mom was standing outside, alone and feeling helpless. I can't imagine that feeling. I was wishing so much that someone was with her. But realistically, if I was wishing for stuff, I probably would of wished to not be having needles go into my chest. So over onto the table of the cat scan machine I went. There, a male technician (who happens to be an uncle of childhood friend) is telling me to pull down my ever flattering johnny coat to expose my chest. In what I'm sure was suppose to be comforting to me, he explained he would cover me up as soon as he could. He probably thought I was embarrassed, but in actual fact I would of made him a deal to parade around the hospital topless in exchange of not having needles go into my chest. But as no such deal was made, they put freezing into my chest. Anyone who has had freezing for any reason knows the sting/burn that comes from it. Well my entire chest felt as though it was on fire. It was not pleasant, but it was necessary. They then sent me through the ct machine to get their first image, but my body was still shaking and the voice telling me to "remain still" wasn't causing it to stop. They gave me a dose of Ativan and finally my body relaxed enough to get a clear image. I think it would of been kind of them to give a few more doses so my mind could relax too, but I guess it doesn't work this way. It was finally time for the part that was causing all my anxiety. I turned my head so I couldn't see, and the male technician must of sense my fear, because he rubbed his hand over my head. I did feel comfort in this...or maybe that was the Ativan. They entered the needle in through my left breast and continued down into my mass. I was ever so thankful for freezing as I remember feeling pressure but I can't remember registering pain. Next, with the needle still in my chest, they sent me through the ct machine again to ensure they were in the right spot. Thankfully they were and they collected their sample and got out. I felt a bit foolish on how upset I had gotten as I didn't feel any pain, but the fear I was experiencing had been real. It's hard to convince your mind sometimes....I guess I should of listened to that nosey roommate.

Once I was clothed again they took me by wheelchair to get an x-ray to ensure my lung hadn't been punctured, or anything else they may have told me that I do not remember them saying. I then went back to my room to rest and let the freezing and Ativan wear off. Upon arriving to my room I was greeted with "nuttin to it, was it?" by the nosey neighbor. I see the comedic side of her part in this now, but I'm pretty sure I would of thrown something at her that day.

The freezing wearing off was probably the most unpleasant feeling of all this. I felt a lot of discomfort and pain. My chest and down my left arm had a lot of pain. I learned after that it's most likely a nerve was hit/damaged during the biopsy, and this is something I still have occur to this  day. I can go months at a time and have no issues, and then other times it can be ongoing for long stretches. The only relief I find now when it acts up is having the weight of my arm lifted, so by putting it in a sling helps. If this is my only physical reminder to all that I went through, I'll gladly take it. That's what I tell myself when I feel like sawing off my arm when it does act up.

When a doctor came to see me later that day, I was told the sample they had was small but they were hoping they could use it for diagnosing me. It would take close on two weeks to get the results, and I were to remain in hospital. I did so for a few days, but as the only benefit this had was keeping a bed reserved, I was released the day before my 22nd birthday. I got to spend that out of hospital, and attend a few classes to clue in my professors as to what was happening. What I had thought was going to be the hard part was over, but in actual fact I learned waiting is way worse.


Thank you so much for continuing to read my story! I'm hoping to continue on a more regular bases. Sometimes it is hard to sit and write such detailed memories. But as long as it eventually gets written down and the possibility of helping others is there, I consider it a success. Please feel free to share! Thanks again

-K

8 years later...feels like yesterday

So this is my first entry, in my first blog. I don't even know if that is the right way of saying it correctly! But basically, over the years since being diagnosed, I find the best therapy for me is writing things down. So why not a personal journal you ask? I find it therapeutic to share my experiences in hopes it can help others in similar situations. So here it is...A blog... Bare with me....

Certain dates, events, tv shows, or even people, can cause memories to flood back to me. Today's reason is it being the 8 year anniversary of finding that G D mass in my chest. It's one of those memories that I can recall every detail, from what time everything happened, to who I talked to, to what I ate that day. I guess my brain knew before I did that it would be an important day in my life.

That morning I sent a text to a classmate saying something along the lines of "get me the notes from the 9 am class, I'm heading to the doctor, I'll meet up with you at our 1 pm class".....I never dreamt I could be down there longer than lunch time. But long and behold this doctor was ACTUALLY going to do a full examine AND order tests (the last 4 did nothing of the sort), so regardless of outcome, it had potential to be a long day.

Around 8:30 am, after seeing the doctor, myself and my sister Karla headed down to the lab to get blood work done. After getting there and seeing the excessive amount of people we turned and headed to radiology for my chest x-ray. There I had my first unpleasant encounter of the day. After changing into a johnny coat that was 10 sizes too big and being put into two different positions for the x-ray, the technician leans out from her protective shield and says "stay like that and deep breath in". Besides for her unsettling look to worry me, my concern and thoughts were more around the lines of "certainly, have me hold this position with my arms over my head, and my boob about a cm away from swinging out this large gap of an arm hole". She called out I was done and I walked off to change out of my tent. The way she was looking at me was my first cause of concern of the day.

After changing the technician told me to stay outside the door and wait for her. I thought this was odd but I found Karla and we waited for her to come out. As my sister is a nurse I asked her why I would be waiting and she joked that I probably had TB or something. If she was concerned at this point, she didn't lead on about it.

When the serious woman came out she told us that something showed in the x-ray and I had to go to CT to have an emergency cat scan. So I was to take my slip with stat written on it straight to the counter and I would be seen immediately. So at this point, alarms are going off in my head and thought of WTF is in my chest were now flooding me. Karla kept to her TB guess and still looked so calm. I don't think she ever knew how much of a comfort that was to me; meanwhile I'm sure she was out of her mind. Next thing I knew I had an IV block started in my hand and Karla is warning me I'll feel like I am peeing during the scan. So on with another johnny coat, arms up (boobs out), and I got to experience what was the first of many ct scans.

Once I was dressed and situated, Karla and I was shown to the emergency waiting room where we were told I would see someone shortly. This was now approx. 10:30 am. So we sat and listened to the tv with awful morning shows blaring for everyone to enjoy. Karla made numerous trips to the nurses station, outside to make phone calls to our mother who was 4 hours away, check in work, etc. At noon she said she would run over and grab us some lunch from the cafeteria. I texted my friend to let her know I would be missing the our 1pm class. We waited. We ate. Karla made more trips to the nurses station and made more phone calls. I had joked earlier that if we were still there at 4:30 we would get to watch 9.0.2.1.0 reruns that came on that network.....we ended up watching it. We saw every person who came into emerge after us get seen by a doctor and leave...twice. I made another joke that whatever my scan showed had the doctors puzzled and they were assembling a team to figure it out....foreshadowing much? Karla checks the nurses station again and I'm finally called in.

Approximately 6 pm I sit in a doctors room up on the table. A resident with curly hair comes in and begins talking casually to us. So casually in fact when the words "a mass measuring at 13 cm x 9 cm" was almost missed by us. But when she looked up and saw our faces she asked if the attending doctor was in and read this with us. If I wasn't so in shock I'm sure I would of said "does it look like we've heard this before", but instead I only responded with asking what was a mass. Her horrified look, now that she knew we were only hearing this for the first time, she responded with the word tumor. I remembering asking a tumor, but it couldn't be cancer; I was 21 years old. That doesn't happen to 21 year olds and I'm not sick! From there she went out to use words of biopsy, admitting me, and so on. This is where things are fuzzy in my mind because I was now hysterical and sobbing. She left the room where Karla and I hugged and cried and I told her I didn't want to die. I remember her saying I wouldn't but it was the first time all day I saw her look upset and I wasn't sure if I believed her.

Once I "settled" enough, I left that room to use the washroom and Karla left to makes a million of phone calls. I remember looking in the mirror and thinking I most likely have cancer, and how unnatural the words felt. I returned to the room where Karla informed me my boyfriend (Lee) was on his way and that mom was leaving Bishop's to drive out. My immediate concern there was mom driving in the dark and the moose (it's great to live in NL), but regardless she was leaving then. We sat and cried more. A doctor came to inform me I would have to be admitted and I look at her as if she was nuts. There was no way I could stay there....I had an observation day for school on Friday. You have to be near death to miss one of those and not be penalized...oh... wait. Somehow Karla convinced them that we would return the next day to be admitted so that I could go home tonight and put together some things (it's good to have a nurse in the family...life saving actually). Lee arrived and the tears start all over again with the three of us. That probably hurt the worst. I'm not one to see men cry. But somewhere between all the tears, a nurse came and drew blood, and we made arrangements for someone in admitting to call me the next day so I could be admitted and a biopsy of the mass could be done. My hour long trip to the doctor finally ended after 13 hours.

I don't remember walking out of the hospital, just Lee and I walking across the parking lot to my car (Karla and I had drove separately as she was suppose to go to work and me to school). As we walked he told me everything would be ok. It was the first time I didn't know if I could believe the words out of his mouth. All I knew was that life was about to become very different.


So this is what has been going through my mind on repeat the last few days. Getting it down in words brought back many feelings, had me shed a few tears, but now that it's down I feel better. All my posts probably won't be as detailed but I thought the day my world change was a good place to start! Thanks for reading! :)

-K