2016 sucked. Okay, not all of it, there was some really good stuff that happened last year. But on the whole, as a year, suck-o. Didn’t like it.
Last spring, just bare months after starting a new job, my feet and legs swelled up and I couldn’t walk without a lot of pain. No family doctor yet, so when it got really, really bad, I went to the ER. Tests and a referral and more tests later and I had a firm case of sarcoidosis. Fine. Steroids and follow ups and more tests and it turned out I was FULL of sarcoidosis. It’s probably the reason I had to get glasses, it was in my organs and it fucked up my legs. But okay, we dealt and in august, it was *supposed* to be gone. As a precaution, my specialist sent me for one more X-ray. To be sure.
Bam. There is was. All in my lungs. Hanging around and building little tumor buddies. I was sent to a new specialist. He sent me for tons more tests. Loads. I’ve had MRI and CT scans, x rays and lung tests and blood work (just wait, THATS a story) and echo cardiograms galore. If I lived in America, I’d owe a million dollars in health care. Maybe. Probably. I don’t know but yay Canada. I asked him point blank at one point, because I had “growths” in my lower lungs that were “not presenting as sarcoidosis” if I had lung cancer. He didn’t know. He couldn’t say. And he couldn’t rule it out.
I told my husband. And no one else. We didn’t even tell the kids until weeks later that this was something we had to rule out, that it was possibly hanging out looking for a seat at the table. Having been down the cancer path before, I had absolutely NO desire to revisit. I was lucky first time around. I did not want a second spin of the roulette wheel.
Today was the day for results. And I’m not only not cancerous, I’m much better! Sure, there is some scar tissue in my lungs now, but sarcoidosis will do that to you. It was to be expected. My doctor thinks I may have a touch of asthma now, possibly kicked into fruition from all the fuckery in my chest, but that is so manageable. Sarcoidosis may strike again in another organ, or come back to mess with my lungs but today, today I am good.
So, he said, I should go down to the lab on my way out and have some more blood drawn. Dentists tell you the secret is in floss. Doctors always see the mysteries of the universe in blood. Okay, I didn’t mind. I’ve had blood drawn a hundred thousand times. No biggie.
We sat and waited for my turn. A tiny, young, quiet, young, very young (did I mention she was YOUNG) girl called my number. I went in, yadda yadda yadda, and she slipped the needle into my skin. And I jumped. It hurt. Not in an “ow, you just put a needle in me hurt” but hurt. A lot. She looked and said “oh”. I was clenching my fingers which were suddenly numb. “I think I may have hit a nerve” she said. She went to get help.
Now. I’m a bit of a fainter when I have too much adrenaline. So, when I get a needle in a nerve and my fingers and hand feel numb I freak out. Quietly. Daintily. Like a goddam lady. So I started to sweat and shake a bit while new, adult nurse came in and asked me all kinds of questions and offered me juice. She asked if I wanted to come back another day but I wanted to get it done. So, the other arm got poked and my hand felt better and the first site ached and I left with my husband. Blood taken, and cancer free.
No Cancer ’17. Bring what you will. It’s all cake after that great news.