May 27, 2011
It was the day after my keg was tapped. I couldn’t sleep on either of my sides. It was tender, putting any kind of pressure was a discomfort. I had to sleep upright against the pillows on the couch. Burping is still a gamble. Sometimes I win and other times I’m gouged. It never hurts on the burps I prepare my mind, body and soul for. Of course not! It’s the little, innocent, oh don’t mind me burps that drop me to the canvas. My breathing hasn’t improved at all. I just assume my lungs aren’t used to air yet.
I wasn’t planning on going into work, but I had to get some info from HR since I would likely be taking some time off. At this point, I didn’t know how much time off. I also needed to catch up on a few things. I caught part of my team, Shane, Anisa and Joanna in a meeting. They were finishing up, when I received a phone call from my doctor. I stepped outside to take the call.
He called to inform me; he made me an appointment with an oncologist. I shot back, “it’s not a toomah!” I didn’t understand why I would need to see an oncologist. Why jump to this conclusion when we don’t know the race of this masstard. He explained, whatever the diagnosis is, most likely I would need chemotherapy. Chemotheraphy?! I just assumed this thing would simply tear through my chest at dinner one night, hiss at all the guests and scurry across the table never to be seen again. But chemo…that’s just shitty. He said it would be good for me to meet the oncologist, since I would be having a long relationship with her. An arranged marriage? This was hard news to take. It put a new sense of seriousness to what I’m dealing with. I guess I was just naive, but I didn’t think an oncologist and chemotherapy would be necessary. I think I’ll just ignore his calls from now on.
Fired up from the news I just received from Dr. Tony Robbins, I went back in the conference room to let the crew know what’s been going on. It was good to see Anisa and Joanna. Not Shane…he’s Canadian. They had been away on travel for the past week so I wanted to give them the low down. I’ve had to explain this story so many times the past couple of weeks, it’s become routine. As I described the details of what’s been going on; Anisa started crying, which made Joanna cry, so I started crying…cause I’m a team player. She tearfully told me she was upset. Not that I was dying, but she was upset that I have to go through all of this. I didn’t understand all the emotion for my ordeal. Again, I was probably just naive. Up to this point, I still thought I would undergo some surgery to remove the mass. No big deal, right? The chemo news probably didn’t help and for some reason, I was pale(r than usual) and had terrible cold sweats. I looked like shit. It added a nice effect to telling my depressing, sickly story. Licking your palms? Suck it, Ferris Bueller.
They all reassured me that I would get through this; being that I’m relatively young and healthy. They were all there for me. They shared stories of people they knew that got through similar situations. It was comforting to hear. Between the crying and the talk about chemo, this afternoon was a slap in the face. Just adding to the realness of what I’m up against.