If He Says He's Evil ... Believe Him!

“You are always living life to the fullest and are so intelligent, independent, beautiful and caring. You’ve really shown me, whether you realize it or not, that you can achieve anything you put your mind to.” Handwritten by friend Leah Wednesday, October 26, 2005. The time has come for all the testing to determine the stage of my disease. I actually feel badly for the staff at the hospital because I am crabby and not in the mood to sit around all day. As long as I show up on time for my appointments, I should be able to put on my scowl face and nobody should talk to me more than necessary. For Stephanie’s benefit, I will be as cheerful as possible. She is here for the first procedure and then will go to work. I’m a little scared and nervous because I don’t know what to expect, but I am curious to see how this whole process works. Looking around, I don’t really see any young people here. Most of the patients are older, have someone waiting with them, and really don’t look like they feel well. They don’t want to talk or be bothered either. It is sad and depressing, yet again makes me feel lucky and fortunate that I’m going to breeze through this and bounce back quickly. How do people work here and deal with all of this sickness and sadness? Thank God they do. My first year of college was in nursing school. What was I thinking?! I should have been a candy striper for a summer, then I would have known that the duties of a nurse were not my bag! I truly admire everyone who works in healthcare. I simply don’t have the stomach for it. Since my chest x-rays were done during last week’s visit, today I start with a bone marrow biopsy. I’m told it is uncomfortable, but not painful like a spinal tap – whatever that means. They don’t ask me to change into a paper gown, so I can wear my own clothes. That’s surprising and interesting – so how bad can it be? We are led through the maze of hallways into an exam room. The nurse practitioner, who is getting to know me pretty well by now, asks me to unbutton my jeans and lie down on the table, face down. If anyone else asked me to do that I’d have to protest! However, I’m starting to feel nervous, trying to remain calm, and will keep my joke to myself. What is she going to do? Stephanie sits in a chair next to me with the newest gossip magazines to read and shows me pictures so I’ll be distracted from the procedure. As soon as she said, “Don’t look at the tray,” and started flipping through the magazine to distract me, my heart began pounding and I couldn’t focus, but I would do my best to look at pictures of all the healthy, glamorous stars. Stephanie is a champ – what would I do without her?!! So I don’t look at the tray, and my eyes move from her face to the magazine. The nurse cleans off a patch of skin on both sides of my pelvic bone. She explains that she will be giving me a local anesthetic so that a small incision can be made for the needles to enter to get samples of bone marrow and bone tissue. That’s fine – ok. The shots are done, the incisions made – no problem, I barely felt it, and I’m learning about the latest Hollywood news. Next, she said I would feel a slight vacuum sensation as she extracts the bone marrow. YEOWZA!! I do not feel a SLIGHT anything; I feel an intense shooting pain go up my back. “STOP, I can feel that!” The nurse gave me another painkiller shot. OK, I will try not to move this time. I have a death grip on the table, I’m sweating bullets and the tears are flowing and soaking the paper under my head. This is so scary and unfair. I hate it. She asked if she should stop again. “No, just get it over with fast.” Stephanie fans me with her magazine trying to cool me down and asks if I’m ok. My eyes are shut tight, and I can’t help that the tears are flowing, but I nod my head yes and swallow hard. But I’m really thinking, “No, I’m not ok! Cripes, I’m being stabbed and my bone marrow is being sucked out … this is not easy or painless -- it’s horrible!” Finally, she’s done. I relax my grip on the table, breathe a huge sigh of relief, blow my nose, and wipe my face. Then the nurse said, “OK, now we have to do the other side.” Huh?! Oh, my dear God. Fine – just do it. At least I know what to expect now. The repeat performance on the other side was equally as horrible. I’m wiped out – thankfully that is over. The nurse announced, “OK, now we have to extract some bone.” WHAT?! I thought we were done, but that was just the marrow. Goody. I lie back down on my tear soaked protective paper and grip the table while Stephanie does her best to fan me, as she knows I’m about to break into another sweat. The nurse attempts to insert the needle into my pelvic bone and asks, “Do you work out?” “Yes, why?” “Your bones are very hard – this is going to make it harder on both of us.” She jams the needle in once, but didn’t get enough of a sample. She goes back in for a second try. The other side gets a good sample on the first try. This procedure was dreadful as well, but not as shocking as the first one. I’m going to survive. The nurse bandages up my incisions – no stitches. Hooray – we’re done here. I try to stand up but feel a little dizzy and disoriented and my eyes feel swollen. I’m tired. How do old people and children endure this? The nurse said the three anesthetic shots she gave me might make it difficult to walk, but I seem fine other than having trouble focusing. I feel like I just slept for 12 hours on my face. Again, Stephanie said, “Don’t look at the tray.” Naturally, I looked. Beside the big, bad needles, there are now smears of my blood and bone. That doesn’t bother me – in fact, it’s fascinating. My prayer is that they don’t find any disease in either of them. Stephanie has to leave for work, so I’ll be on my own for the balance of the day. I’m sure it’s not easy for her to watch me go through this. She has gone through plenty of medical procedures without even telling me about it until afterwards. I certainly would have been there for her had I known. I made the mistake of wearing jeans today. Nobody told me to wear comfy pants. Now I will have these huge bandages rubbing against my back the rest of the day. Somebody should have told me I wasn’t spending the day in a lovely green hospital gown, and I would have dressed more comfortably. I wish I could just lie down and go to sleep, but I have to go wait in line for the Muga Scan (heart test). Fortunately, no treadmill or exercise of any kind is involved in this test or the PET Scan to follow. I can just sit in the waiting room and wait, which is pretty much what I will do for the rest of the day. I will either be sitting and waiting or horizontal in a tube getting scanned. What a long, long exhausting day, but it is best to get these tests all over with at once. Lazy Boy All the waiting around gave me plenty of time to think. How much heartache and disappointment can one girl take in a lifetime? Shortly after seeing Magazine Man for the last time, I met a tall cutie patootie at a late night dance club. We had great fun for a couple of weeks hanging out, drinking, dancing, and cavorting. Then he started calling me at work every morning while he was at home lying in bed, not working. He thought it was endearing that he thought of me when he woke up in the middle of the day. Hm. My heart was not growing fonder. In fact, as he continued to call me from his bed every day, I grew increasingly annoyed and realized that I could never date somebody who was at home sleeping while I was at work. Made me crazy. Every time the caller ID showed his number, I rolled my eyes and let him go into voice mail. What an ingenious invention! But that’s also when I knew it was time -- I had to let him go. He wasn't evil by any means, just lazy. Lazy doesn't work for me. Next!