See what I did there? I made light of my situation. It’s a lame pun, I know, but I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been saving that line. So ha, there it is. At long last…
And here I am! Finally in Cleveland for all the right reasons. The blood clot seems to have evaporated (and by that I mean I’ve been stabbing myself twice daily with injections since July and the blood thinners worked. That’s kind of like magic, right?). I also made my nuclear medicine appointment today (barely) and was injected with radioactive dye that will show the surgeons where the cancer is in the lymph system while they are operating tomorrow. I swear to everything that is holy that the geiger counter they use to find the radioactive particles is from the 40s. It looks just like this, only older:
I’m not kidding.
After being poked and prodded by a few physicians and staff, injected with radioactive dye and sufficiently sticky from ultrasound gel, Tom and I got to finally check in to our room. We left Bozeman last night at 9:00pm, were delayed by two out of three of our flights and disappeared from the system on the third. This put us in to Cleveland about 5 hours behind schedule. We nearly missed every appointment that would have been necessary for me to get surgery today, but somehow, the good people at Cleveland Clinic pushed us through. Now, after 24 hours of travel and appointments, I am finally set up in a moderately crappy hospital room trying to enjoy my last moments of this intact, non-leaking, non-sore, fully functional body.
I’ve tried to think about how I feel about all this, and here’s my honest answer:
I’m fine with it.
Really. I am. I have been through worse. Having kids had a much more profound impact on my body than this. Training for races has been harder on my body. And let’s not forget what nursing two children has done.
I know that I will struggle through parts of this, but on the whole, I’m okay. I’m ready to move forward. I’m ready to grab Tom by the hand and forge a new path together. He’ll once again be there to take care of me- and he is oh so great at that. He and I will both have to fall in love with my body all over again. I’m ready, and maybe even a little excited, to do this together and to carve another notch in our tree of life.
At this point, I figure the only way out is through. So I’m going through it and I’m pulling up a lot more confidence and claiming a lot more control than I have in the past. I know I have an amazing team of doctors and nurses here and that I’m headed for the best outcome possible. I’m not afraid. I know I can handle what is coming. And I welcome the transition.
So that is it for tonight. Here’s one last shot of me “before.” I’ll be the same girl later on, just maybe a little braver, a little more resilient and a little perkier? (Groan… more puns. I know, I know!) See you on the flip side.