I like short hair.
Today was productive and really not that bad at all. I notice that I usually feel the most sad and/or angry and/or scared at night when it feels like all the world is asleep except for me (even though I know that isn't true). The internet helps me deal with that feeling, as well as the variety of timezones there are out there around this "big" blue-green ball we're all hanging out on. Another feeling that bothers me some nights more than others is the strange sensation in my chest when I lay down. I am much more physically aware of the monster mass in my chest when I lay down. I sleep on my sides, so if I lay on my right side it feels like something that ISN'T supposed to be there (tumor) is leaning on something that IS supposed to be there (heart); if I lay on my left side, it feels like something that IS supposed to be (heart) there is leaning on something that ISN'T supposed to be there (tumor). SO, if I absolutely cannot sleep I don't usually stay laying there feeling uncomfortable and letting my mind wander to unpleasant thoughts for long. Last night was one of those nights. I stayed up until nearly four o'clock, at which point my drooping eyelids indicated to me that surrender to sleep would be short and sweet.
The morning came and the hospital called to say "come on in." The bone marrow biopsy was scheduled for 12:30. My dad and mom drove me up to Mayo. I listened to some of K.D. Lang's more soothing songs on the way there. (She's got some great ones. My faves right now are "Simple," "The Valley," "Fallen," and "Love is Everything.") At 11:30 I popped a Percacet and and a Xanax. (Oh yeah, I forget to mention that Dr. Tun has me taking five Prednosone pills per day to inhibit/stop tumor activity. So I had already downed a couple of those at the house). I felt pretty drugged up by the time I got to the hospital, but I think my parents were acting more out of it then I was. Ha ha ha.
We found our way to the right place and soon my name was called. My mom went in with me. In moments the doctor, K.C. (ironic, huh?) and her assistant (Deborah Speaks [ironic!! My mom's name when she was married to my dad was "Deborah Spiecker]) arrived to begin the procedure. Luckily K.C. was damn good at her job. I had K.D. Lang playing in one ear through my Ipod while my mom held my hand. I had to lay on my belly so I couldn't watch this procedure (darn! Though maybe it is a blessing in disquise because it felt [in a numb sort of way] like she was digging a cork screw into the bony part of my upper behind.) K.C. numbed me up really well, with several injections of local anesthetic, down to the bone. When she reached the point of inserting the needle/vaccumn/aspiration tool (whatever that horrid, yet blessedly modernized and convenient instrument is called) into my bone and preparing to aspirate, she told me to take a deep breath in and hold it. This part felt ackward for sure, and slightly uncomfortable, but, thank you God, it really was not that bad at all! It was over within seconds. Then, as she took a biopsy of the actual bone, I don't think I felt anything at all. She truly did a fantastic job. She was a cool lady too.
Afterwards, I was able to sit up and actually see the extracted bone marrow fluid! How cool is that? I'm such a dork. (I can't help it. I like biology and microbiology.) K.C. explained to me what the grainy, sandy looking stuff was (can't say I remember now. I was drugged up, remember?) and what the red, bloody looking stuff was (um...pretty sure that WAS blood. Blood is manufactured in the bone marrow). The point of this test, practically speaking, was obviously not for my scientific amusement or to fulfill any repressed masochistic curiousities (dear God, I become such a nut when I start writing). As the bone marrow is the place where blood is manufactured, it is an important place to investigate and see what is going on in there. This test will help determine what stage of Hodgkin's Lymphoma (HL) I have.
After returning to St. Augustine, my mom and I headed over to Hair Benders. The lovely ladies and friends of ours, Bobby and Cindy do a great job there. I told Bobby what was up and that I wanted to donate my hair. She put it up in a ponytail and chopped the collection of hair off. Then she gave me a nice, short, funky, cute, pixie haircut which I actually really like. I had a similar style when I was around nineteen. My hair grows rather fast so I am never wary about chopping it off. Besides, it's just hair- dead skin cells (like my soon to be cancer cells will be! Dead, that is). Bobby offered to come shave it all off for me when the time comes.
I had a wonderful evening when around five o' clock three good friends from Flagler College (from where I recently graduated) came over and carried me away to dinner. They brought me some beautiful plants and cards.
So I had a nice day, over all! This may sound strange coming from someone who is in the position I am in. I can't help but notice that this cancer stuff is causing me to appreciate/savor/experience each day and each person in my life (including my very own self) on a deeper level than I perhaps ever have. Ironic, huh? I know it's not going to be a bowl full of roses and some of the days ahead of me may very well suck big time, but I am stregthened in my spirit knowing that I am not alone and that, by the grace of God and the fire in my soul, I am one tough cookie!
