From Part VII
To start from the beginning, click here for Part I
When I had Hodgkin's Lymphoma, it helped to talk to other people to know I was not alone. When I went into remission, other people starting their journey were helped simply by talking to me. I was amazed by that. The internet is full of information. I hope in that cybersea, I can somehow be of help.
It was about September in 1997. For a few weeks my right armpit area would get sore after I’d work out with military presses or something like that which had me using my shoulders. One night after working out I was trying to massage my muscles on my right side to try and help the hurt a little. And then I felt it. This little raisin-sized lump right in my right armpit where a lymph node might be. Needless to say, I wasn’t happy one bit.
I played the denial game here, too. But that only lasted about three weeks. I was dreading going through treatment again, and the notion that Hodgkin’s would show itself again might mean that my long-term prognosis wouldn't be so great. Nevertheless, I knew this thing wasn’t going to go away until I saw someone. I made an appointment with my oncologist so he could check it out. I visited with him, he examined it, and wanted a biopsy to be done. So I’d have to arrange for a surgeon.
Now the previous benefit year, I had signed up under HMO because it was cheaper. I'd have to get the blessing on everything from a primary care physician. That shouldn't be a problem. I mean, what could happen, right? But this would create a problem. First, we’d have to go to my primary care physician, who wasn’t there anymore. So they had to find another doctor to get me a referral to a chest surgeon. The HMO was going really slow and I had to do something that I hadn’t done before: hounding the oncologist’s office because they were the ones working on it. I didn’t like doing it, because I had a good relationship with them and was very grateful for all they had done. The whole process took A MONTH before I saw the surgeon. Needless to say, I didn't ever want to tie my doctor's hands again and forked over the extra money for the PPO during the next open enrollment period..
But that was a way off. I went for consult and examination with the surgeon, and I think we scheduled the surgery.
So I report for surgery, and once again we’re having trouble with that heart rate thing. The anesthesiologist decided to go a little old school and knock me out with gas. So I’m wheeled into the operating room, perfectly alert. I then get this oxygen mask over me and I am told to breathe in and out. Then this numbness starts to take over my body and I hear one of the nurses say, “that was fast.” I wanted to say that it hadn’t fully kicked in, but I was out about a second later before I could panic.
One of the nurses woke me up as I was being wheeled into the recovery room. The doctor was with this entourage. He said that what they removed wasn’t a lymph node. This thing was blue and I don’t remember if he gave me the size. Great (facetiously), it was a tumor but not Hodgkin’s. Now the mystery again: What is it?
Several days later, I got a call from the doctor. He had received the pathologists’ report. I had a fibrosarcoma, which I had certainly recognized as cancer. Well, that sucked. We were going to make an appointment, go over the results, and determine what our next move is. I was at work. My boss called and I told her what happened. She asked if I wanted to go home for the rest of the day. As kind as that gesture was, I thought for that time it was best that I was at work.. My concern was not so much that I had cancer again, although that wasn't pleasing news.. My question was: What kind of treatment can I look forward to? I didn’t have those answers yet, and I wasn’t going to get those answers right now. I guess what I’m trying to say is that the information was incomplete, so "I have cancer" was just not enough for me to dwell on. But it was still a bummer.
My parents went with me to see the doctor. The doctor explained that the pathologists took a long time with this because they were trying to find cells that were dividing. This was a slow-growing tumor. I got a copy of the pathologists’ report. It had mentioned things like muscle atrophy (great, so working out wasn't all that productive) and the zinger: If this was in the radiation mantle field, it was "almost certainly" caused by the radiation. I often thought the radiation wasn’t necessary, but who am I? And as I said in the last post, it's now used less due to improved chemotherapy. And I went under ABVD, which as I said is now "the gold standard," at least in the United States. Curse you, radiation. So now we're going to get me back into surgery to remove the surrounding tissue to see if it had spread.
So now, it’s surgery day. I don’t get gassed but get conked out like everybody else usually does. The tissue sample would go back to the pathologists. My parents took me back to their house and just crashed, because that's what you do after general anesthesia - crash.
Some days later, I get a call from the surgeon. The surrounding tissue was free and clear. Whew! And he conferred with my oncologist who said that he didn’t see the need for any chemotherapy or radiation. My oncologist got me this far, so he must know what he was talking about. Again I was at work, so I decided to give my family the good news, My mom answered the phone, and at this time our benefits manager comes into my office. I announce to my mom that it was free and clear, and the benefits manager, overhearing this, had this cheery look on her face. Now, I never told the benefits manager anything about what was going on, so she must have heard it through some kind of grapevine. I really didn’t mind that she knew. The more people that know, the greater your support can be. And like I’ve kept saying, the people in your life are important.
But as for the big “C”, we can pack this one away. But I would still some lingering effects from it all.
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