I am an emotional person. I wear my heart on my sleeve. When
I get excited, I talk loud and I use my hands. When my husband asks why I’m
yelling at him, I tell him, “I am not yelling. I am passionate about this
topic, so I get louder. Remember I am
half Latina.”
Mr. LSM: What does
that mean?
Me: It means what it
means.
Then I walk away..and lower my voice.
I am emotional. What
can I say?
(I can proudly admit
this because my husband rarely reads my blog. He will never see
this, therefore technically, I have never admitted it.)
So you can imagine, since being diagnosed will melanoma, I've become even more emotional, especially when visiting with my doctors.
After my last appointment with my surgeon, prior to my ultrasound to recheck
my enlarge lymph node, I was told “If they stick a needle in you, you come
back. No needle, we see you in 3 months.” So when I didn’t get a needle stuck in my
neck, I figured I didn’t need to go back. But last Friday, I called to be safe,
because you can never be TOO safe when it comes to your health. They said the doctor did want to see me. That
made me a bit nervous, until I got a letter on Saturday, from my doctor, saying
that he would be leaving at the end of the month to pursue other challenges and
opportunities. I figured that was
probably why he wanted me to come in. My relief quickly disappeared though as I
realized- he is leaving at the end of the month.
Then on Monday, I was just too busy to think about anything,
until I got to the office.
Until I was a patient, I had never been to a cancer center
before. As most would imagine, most of the people are older, so I always feel a
little awkward and out of place. As I
look around, I see my grandparents in these people’s faces, even my parents,
and then I think, Oh my God, I am here, too. I am a patient like them.
Today, there was only one person in the waiting room with
me. She was called back as soon as I sat down, and I was called shortly after.
I started to get a little nervous at that point. What if there WAS something
wrong and I just misunderstood the lady doing my ultrasound? The nurse taking
me to the room was very upbeat and talkative. They always ask your name and
birth date. She said I would be hitting 40 in a few more years and was I ready
for that. “No!” I answered while laughing, “Are you kidding me? I still feel
28?” Then my laughter stopped. God ,I hope I see 40.
I sat down with a People magazine to distract my mind, and
it worked, because I came across this picture.
Ladies, you're feeling calm right now just looking at it, aren’t
you?
Then I turned the page to see this ad…
Which made me upset. That is the EXACT lotion I used
whenever I laid out to tan. SPF 8 so I wouldn’t burn, but would still get dark.
I even used accelerator whenever I could. I hated the fact that on this ad, in
2012, they are claiming the protection you deserve. Really? SPF 8 is
protection?
I was angry. I wanted to go back and smack my teenage self,
shoot, I needed to smack my early 20’s self as well. If only I knew. If only I had known what to look for, so I
could have caught this nasty beast in an even earlier stage.
My surgeon entered. He came in and said, “The lymph node has
shrunk.” Ah, relief. Then he sat down to
tell me that at this point, he isn’t going to give me a neck dissection if my
CT, PET Scan, and ultrasound are all negative. Good news right? But a part of
me wanted to say “Do it! Take them all out. Please!” I started to doubt my good fortune.
I didn’t say that however. What I did say was, “I received
your letter, and I am very sad that you are leaving.” He explained that he felt bad leaving his
patients, but he was offered a great and challenging opportunity. How could I
be angry at that? The man has a gift. If he felt God wanted him to go
elsewhere, then he needed to do that. But
what am I going to do without him? He told me that now the practice was just
down to one head and neck surgeon, so she is going to be busy. That worried me.
He always saw me so quickly. He was on top of everything. Then, maybe because I knew it was the last
time I would be seeing him, I said, “I am scared. I read these stories about
people who have melanoma on their head, and years later it is in their stomach.
How am I supposed to know? How can I know? You looked out for me.”
And he looked me in the eye and told me, “You live your
life. You continue being a great mom. You continue being a great wife. You
live. You continue to check yourself and stay on top of this, but you live.” Then he went on to say that he really cares
about his patients, which I know first-hand. He said, as he has said many times
before, “When I look at you, I see my wife. You are my age. You have young
children like us. I am sorry that I internalize it like that.” And I said, “NO!
I am so glad you do. I want everyone to see me as someone they love, because
there are people who love me.”
He then told me I
need to make sure I get a CT every 3 months for the first year. He handed me a copy of my ultrasound report
and he shook my hand. I started to tear up. Then he asked if I still had his
cell phone number in case I was ever worried about something. Wherever he is going, those people sure are
blessed.
He left the room. Then I walked out to schedule my next appointment,
with the other, soon to be very busy, head and neck surgeon. I also scheduled
my CT appointment. The nurse who walked me out asked me if I was ok. Clearly,
my eyes were all welled up. “Yes,” I
said. No. Make him stay. This other
doctor isn’t going to care about me. She isn’t going to worry about me like he
did. She will be too busy to read my scans or catch anything in time. I sat down, wiped back my tears, and made
Starbucks small talk while scheduling my next scan.
I was sad in the elevator. I was sad on the way home. I was
sad when I got home (until I spent about an hour explaining to my husband that
NO, if someone would have told him that they see their husband in him, I would
NOT be bothered. Well, not if it was a doctor. The lady checking him out at
McDonald’s couldn’t do that and get away with it.) Then I had to remind myself-
your lymph node shrunk. Negative. Negative. Negative. This is GOOD stuff.
Happy
times.
It was definitely a bittersweet visit. You don’t realize
that you don’t only trust God with your life, but sometimes there are people
right here you also trust. I knew from the first time I met with my surgeon,
that he was going to look out for me and do his best. Just like when I go to
bed at night, I can sleep without worry, because I know my husband will take
care of me and the kids if anything happens. Just like I know my mom and my
sisters will do anything to have my back and help me. Just like I know my
friends will always be there with a kind word, a joke, a meal, or some company.
And to think, I almost didn’t meet my surgeon. Well, no, God would have made sure that I did.
I ended that day even more thankful- for everything and
everyone. I decided I must do what the doctor said, LIVE MY LIFE, no matter how emotional I get about it. I must keep living and doing what I am doing so I can help others to live their life as well. So, for me to be invited to participate
in The Thankful Hearts: The Random Acts of Kindness Project just minutes after
I finished typing this was absolutely NO coincidence. This couple has so much to be thankful for,
much like us all. They want to encourage us to make one random act of kindness
on Wednesday, December 5 and share it. If you can’t think of anything, they
have ideas on their site.
Readers, please go out and do something for someone today
simply because it makes you feel good to do so.
Share your acts of kindness with them- AND me! I'd love to hear!
Thanks for reading. Until next time, practice safe sun!
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