So, hi! The doc that scoped me and biopsied my stomach and esophagus managed not to perforate either, causing me to bleed internally in a profuse manner eventually degenerating into DIC and dying. So that's good, that, you know, I'm still alive.
My stomach has been grumpy and I'm exhausted and not sleeping at night.
The hardest part is waiting and not knowing. I like to be the one with the PLAN. I remember feeling like this when I had a lump in my breast while pregnant with Avery. I went to the OB/GYN first where I got a frown as the doctor poked and prodded my breasts, and then "Oooo, that's not good". Then silence. Doctors of te world- when yu have a pregnant lady on your table with a lump that seemed to grow from the size of a raisin to an apricot over labor day weekend- you don't say, "Oooo, that's not good." and then stop there.
Next I was kicked along next door to have an ultrasound where a grim looking ultrasound tech also said, "Hmm, that doesn't look right." Then I was told to schedule a biopsy with a surgeon. It took 4 weeks to get in to see her because I decided it was worth an extra week or two to make sure I was going to see the surgeon that al the other "OOoo"-ing and "Hhmmm-ing" doctors would go to if they had breast cancer. It took three days for the pathology to come back as inconclusive but the surgeon felt nervous about it so said we should just go ahead ad do the lumpectomy. I did a little research before hand and told her to make sure to take it with margins(take extra all the way around so if it hasn't spread yet it won't come back because ideally you'd get everything if you took out the lump and a bunch of tissue around it.
Remember the part about being pregnant with Avery? Well, I didn't want cause any risk to her so the doctor did the surgery without putting me under anesthesia. So, I was laughing and telling cow jokes as I heard and smelled my flesh sizzling and popping away. I remember her hesitating for a moment and I paused the banter with the assisting nurse and PA. I remember saying something like, "Scoop the whole damn thing out if you have to, I'd rather conserve my life than my breast."I could feel the blood running down my side but it didn't hurt at all. And then she started digging around in my armpit which actually hurt enough to make me want to drop a few f-bombs but I was the one that was gung ho about making sure we knew what we were dealing with and if that lump was some kind of big C, I wanted to know if it was in my lymph nodes. Then, she stitched me up and sent me home to wait for the pathology. It turned out to be a benign tumor. I was still glad to have that sucker out of there even if it did look like one side of my boob had been bombed, and collapsed.
This time, it is the same deal. I know the doc saw some pretty pissed of looking places in my stomach and esophagus and he said he kind of went overkill on doing the biopsies so there were alot of samples, I guess. And having studied microbiology, I know what it looks like at the other end. I remember getting looking at a slide with some pretty messed up stuff on it- leukemia. And really all I had to relate to was a test tube with a number, a name I didn't recognize, a birthdate and a barcode. I handed it off to be confirmed by my betters but it struck me that there was someone out there who was going to get The Call and The Call would totally turn their world upside down.
So, now I am waiting for The Call. I hate waiting. And this is the opposite of that anticipation before Christmas, this is the sweating, weeping, choking-the-life out of me kind of anticipation. Not to mention we've had some miscommunications about tests and what might be going on down in that gastric universe of mine.
But I tell you, if I get The Call ad there is even a lttle maybe, the tiniest hesitation, the beginning of a 'let's-wait-and-see' or a breath of not-quite-sure - I'm high-tailing it straight up to UCSF for a second opinion. I'll probably just have every non-essential organ taken out after all this, prophylaxis. Eh, who needs a stomach anyway. Hack out my pancreas and a ew yards of intestine and get that damn uterus while you're in there. That little obsessive part of my brain that cannot be distracted from my impending doom, the other shoe dropping, so to speak, is having a conversation with itself: "Can you get toe cancer? Maybe I should chop off my toes?" Yeah, think I'm going to shut that door for now before I start my own You Tube channel on home amputation- DIY!! You can save an arm and a leg that way!! Ha.
Hmm. I wonder if this will be the secret to losing that last 10 lbs? How much do you think a liver weighs?
Just please note: hiatal hernia=BAD.
Frickin' bleeding ulcer. Who gets one of those anyway? The bitch of it all is that I don't smoke, I don't drink(well, maybe once every couple of years these days), I have really dropped off on the caffeine, I take medication to suppress acid production and pop antacids like tic tacs- so, why the ulcer? Do you think I could sue the IRS for giving me a bleeding ulcer? (And lets not forget the couple other non-bleeding ulcers).
Please note: hiatal hernia + IRS=really bad.
I know, too, that if death and taxes are the only guarantees, the IRS is going to get their taxes before they kill me.
Meh. Did I mention I hate waiting?
Oh, and btw, I am kind of pissed off that my hair is still black. The box showed a dark, auburn brown(and I swear I used it before) which is really close to my natural color. Now picture me being all pale and anemic with shocking black hair and fuschia lipstick on since that is all the rage. The damn eighties are NOT a decade that should be relived. NO, No, No. NO!! Maybe I should do my hair in for good- hey, I might be on chemo soon anyway- I could get a PERM!! Then I'd be freaking joyful when my hair fell out. See, you just have to set yourself up for success.
Tempus valedicendi! I going to go watch True Blood while the kids are at school. Hehehe.
Mwah! XOXO I love you all! I love the whole world even if it is entirely unrequited.