I’ve been sick since before Christmas. Actually, the sickest I’ve ever been.
It took me approximately a month before I caved and went to the doctor. I hate doctors. Hate them.
I usually have the mindset that (see my previous post) “this will pass.”
About a week before Christmas I started having severe pains in my pelvic region. Specifically my right side. I’ve had cysts before and could pretty much pinpoint that this was the same type of pain, only more intense. I also assumed it would go away within a few days. It always did before.
Again, it didn’t.
I was scared.
I actually saw a nurse practitioner, who told me she had to send me over for a CT scan because there were so many things it could be.
She came back in and told me I had to go THAT DAY.
I went to another office across town. Drank two big glasses of orange kool-aid (GROSS), and was told the concoction had the special “dye” in it that would show up on the scan.
I did manage to choke it down with the assumption that I would glow in the dark afterwards for months.
They also injected me with iodine that made me feel like I wet my pants on the table. (I didn’t)
The test was easy, even though the CT machine was freaky. I had to close my eyes to avoid panic when it got near my face. The waiting was hard.
The waiting for the results was even harder.
Later that night I received a call from the NP, who told me I HAD to see my GYN IMMEDIATELY because I had two large cysts that could rupture at any time. She mentioned “the C word”. (Something I had in the back of my head to begin with.)
My beloved Dr. saw me the following day and performed an ultrasound. He then took me into his office and told me it was abnormal. I needed a CA-125 blood test. (The “C” indicator test)
I waited for several days. Several painful days for the results.
I died a thousand times in my head. “What would happen to my children if I died?” “Would they miss me?” “Will my granddaughter even remember me?” “Will my husband start dating immediately?” “Will he be happier without me?””How long do I have to live?”
Unless you’ve had this type of scare, there is truly no way to describe the emotions. It’s horrible. During this time, you realize what a true vapor life is. One minute someone is very much alive, the next they could be gone. In a flash.
Health is paramount. Life is precious. Death is forever.
After several days and no word, I decided to call. The test had just came back the night before and the Dr. had to tell me the results. The nurse wasn’t allowed.
Fortunately, I’ve known this particular Dr. and nurse for 30 years, so I asked her timidly, “It wouldn’t actually be you telling me the results if you could just answer yes or no if I have anything to worry about.” She paused. “No.”
A huge weight lifted.
A few days later I received an email that the test came back normal. No cancer. (Thank you God for answered prayers.) I’ll still likely need surgery. I’m still in pain, but it’s not going to kill me.
Consequently, I also don’t glow in the dark.