November 27th (The day before Thanksgiving)
I am a Superman fanatic. When I was 19 I got a Superman tattoo on my arm. I've owned posters, cards, canisters, pens, pencils, toys, etc. I loved what it was; what it meant. It was good and pure. Truth, justice, and the American way. A super man strong enough, determined enough to overcome all obstacles because HE must for the the rest of us.
I had not been feeling well. Thanksgiving break 1-3! Woo.
Ashley and my parents wanted me to get out of the house for a bit. Relax. My parents would babysit, and we could take our time.
Ashley took me to see Man of Steel. Superman. I was seven again. Finally.
I threw up three times during the course of our outing to the theatre. I had to clean myself up in the bathroom of a Barnes and Noble. I vomited into a theatre trashcan in the middle of a busy lobby. I was stared at. I was talked about. I was THAT guy. "Look! Something's wrong with that guy."
I know. But why don't the doctors.
I had chills the entire movie. The fever that accompanied it was even more enjoyable. I'm sure the theatre was tired of my cough. I was.
The conversation going home was frustrating. We were both so tired of this. We need answers. What should we do? This has gone on long enough, but what, do we go to CareNow, the ER? Should we wait until Friday? Monday?
I had a fever of 103 when we got home. We went to the ER that night.
"Okay, so what are you here for?"- Here we go again.
Fever. Chills. Night sweats. Cough that now instigates gag reflex and vomiting. Major fatigue. And depending on which doctor's scale I'm on that week, I have now lost 20-25 pounds without trying. So either I've found the best diet ever, or something is wrong.
The tests began that night. Blood work. Urine analysis. X-Rays. CT Scan. Breathing test. Almost four hours later I was released.
"We couldn't find anything. You look and seem otherwise heathy. Here is a steroid and an antibiotic. We recommend that you see a pulmonologist (focusing on the cough). It's probably bronchitis. You have a hundred dollar copay."
***In about a month from this point, when things really hit the fan, I will learn that my blood work that night revealed that I had a hemoglobin level of 11.3. Healthy hemoglobin levels are between 14-18. I was anemic. I was not told.
Ashley's family has a large Thanksgiving celebration every year. I have not missed one since we came into each others lives. This year, I did not attend Thanksgiving. I missed it for the first time in six years. I was too tired. I didn't have the energy to chase the boys. It was embarrassing.
Ashley braved it alone. Having to answer all of the questions. "Where is Chris? What's wrong? You know what he should do..." It was all meant well. They cared. Seemingly more than the people I had been pumping money into for over two months.
Does anyone have any real answers?
December
The sweats are starting at work. The fever will break and sweat will permeate everything. My clothes were drenched. My hair looked like I had just stepped out of the shower. I teach teenagers, and they judge. My self confidence wavered. I sat more while I taught. Just so tired. What do the kids think about this?
Every aspect of life. There was no escape.
Sunday, December 22nd. The ninth, week plus cycle began. Thankfully, it gave me Christmas. I felt good on Christmas. I didn't have to miss my boys' Christmas. Thank you.
The day after Christmas was the Kennedale freshmen basketball tournament. We played Thursday and I came home drenched in sweat. There wasn't an ounce dry. Friday I coached mainly from the bench. I didn't have the energy to stand and yell. I couldn't do my job (Not that it's my job to stand and yell).
I was beside myself when I came home. There is something wrong. Ashley again agreed. She confessed that I did not look well. My skin and the corners of my eyes were yellowing. I confessed to her and told her that my urine looked as if there was blood in it. And, that I was scared.
We took my temperature. 103. We went back to the ER that night.
For feeling absolutely terrible, I was in a remarkably good mood. I was just too tired of it all. I was convinced that this time would be different. This time they would tell me what was really wrong. I was ready to finally hear it.
"What are you here for?" Read last months chart. Add jaundice to it.
Lather, rinse, and repeat.
Bloodwork. Chest echo (That's a new one). X-Ray. Urine analysis. Three hour wait.
Finally. The news came down the pipeline. My blood levels were low. My hemoglobin was in the 8's. This was not good. I was of course anemic, and they were worried. But that was all. They had no other information. I was to be admitted. They needed more tests. More time. Fine, let's just figure this out this time. I just want to know.
I finally got a room around one in the morning. I shared it with a pleasant older man who wanted to finish watching The Green Mile. I was so tired, I didn't care. When he was finished he turned his TV off, which turned mine on. We had to call the nurses in to fix the problem. Things were off to a good start.
My Saturday began at six in the morning for blood work. It continued having to overhear my roommates conversations with his wife upon her arrival. She was ready to go home. He was the one in there for a week. They screwed with my TV more and then paroled that afternoon.
I had the room to myself.
I met three doctors that day. A joke of a general MD, a hematologist (blood doctor), and an infectious disease doctor. They asked a lot of the same questions. The same questions I'd been answering for months. I gave the same responses. They asked follow up questions. This was new.
They arranged for me to take another CT Scan that afternoon. This one would target a larger area. The previous scans focused on my chest. This one was going to range from my neck to my abdomen, just in case. This one, they assured me, would give us a better idea of what was going on.
Sunday, December 29th
The fevers had passed. I actually had slept well considering my surroundings. And I was really looking forward to the breakfast the hospital called "The Big Denton". I was starving.
After my 6 am wake up call and blood work, I drifted in and out until "The Big Denton" had arrived. It looked amazing.
8:30 am, and I am half-way through breakfast. Enter Dr. NotWorthADamn.
"Good Morning. Well the CT Scan has come back and it does look like Lymphoma."
Cue the fork drop. Um, wait, what... what does Lymphoma mean exactly?
"Lymphoma, it... it is cancer. We need to run more tests to make sure, but it does look like Lymphoma.
Silence.
"Do you have any questions for me?"
Uh, well, I'm sure I will later, but that's kind of a lot to take in right now.
"Let me know if you have any questions." Exit Dr. NotWorthADamn.
It was 8:30 in the morning, in the middle of breakfast, when I learned I had cancer. There was no one there. No friends. No family. No awkward roommate. No one. I was alone when I learned I had cancer. It's no ones fault. I told everyone to come in a bit later. I did not realize however I would have a bomb dropped on me by a general doctor just making his rounds, that I would never see again. I was done with breakfast.
I called Ashley immediately. Hey, can you come up here as soon as you can? They are throwing around some pretty scary words.
I didn't have much longer to be alone with this. It was an eternity though.
Assignment: Imagine you have just been told you have cancer. Spend 30-45 minutes contemplating your entire life and what that means for your future. Things to consider: Do you get a future? Think about your family, especially your children. Ask yourself and god why. Think about a way to tell this to your wife who is on her way and should be there any excruciating minute. Does this differ than the way you plan on telling your parents? Can you do this? Ask yourself and god why? And cry.
I cried. I cried hard. The thoughts were heavy and difficult. They were so confusing and thick to swallow. I had no answers for anyone. I had asked no questions. All I had was an empty room, an unknowing wife on the way, and a single word in the air.
Cancer.
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