I guess that's probably a pretty shitty way to describe Cleveland, especially when I am visiting from Buffalo...a city with an equally drab image. Cleveland certainly has more to offer - a more developed waterfront, better medical services, world class museums....Buffalo, however, is in my blood. Maybe that's why I have cancer! HA! Bad joke, I guess....but, I like to keep a sense of humor about this whole thing from time to time.
Anyway, I thought I would retell the story of my first trip to Cleveland. After a weekend of telling my parents, sister, and a close friend or two - my spirits are low and so we head off to meet with my oncologist on Tuesday, December 20th - the first night of Hanukkah. It is a full day, so we headed up the evening before and stayed overnight on the campus of the Cleveland Clinic.
The whole experience is surreal on that first night in Cleveland. First off, you're staying on a medical campus and it's pretty freaking obvious. You are surrounded by people who are ill, or who are visiting the ill. The hotels, while clean and comfortable, feel very institutional. There is an overlying emphasis on "wellness." I feel totally out of place. Graham and I have dinner at the hotel restaurant. I wanted the least healthy looking thing on the menu. And I wanted beer. I got both! Staying in the hotel reminded me of the reason why we were there in the first place, and despite any nervousness about the day that was lying ahead of me, I slept like a log. I think my emotions and everything finally caught up with me and left me exhausted. Our room was amazing....it was a suite, in fact. The most luxurious accommodations we've ever had, and it was overshadowed by the reality of why we were even in the room to begin with.
The next morning, we are up at it - stopping off first to hit the elliptical machines in the fitness center. A little cancer is NOT going to get in the way with my gym obsession. We finish up, shower, and head over to the Cole Eye Institute - an easy walk from our hotel.
I have to say, this building is amazing. The central lobby is designed and inspired by the structure of the eyeball. This is where I will have my surgeries. At least it is aesthetically pleasing to me!
We don't wait long and are ushered into an examination room where I get started with some dilation and numbing drops. My poor left eye is feeling totally ignored through this whole process. Everyone is all about the right eye! I meet my oncologist, Dr. Singh, and he and his resident doctor put me through the same battery of examinations that I had just undergone a few days earlier in Buffalo. They'll want to take more pictures, and of course another ultrasound.
He immediately confirms the diagnosis - choroidal melanoma (also known as ocular melanoma, uveal melanoma...or just simply, eye cancer). He, however, is going to give us a measurement of the tumor and will talk to me about the upcoming surgery. He makes me feel totally at ease. Nothing can go wrong if I am in his hands. He is soothing and caring. In a matter of minutes, I have put complete faith and trust into him.
Now that we've got clarity on the situation, we need to submit to a couple of additional test to make sure that the cancer has not already spread. I'll be getting blood work and a CAT scan today as well. I'm very nervous about the results of these two. The internet can be both a blessing and a curse when you are diagnosed with a disease. You read terms like "lethal" and "aggressive" and "mortality" when you are reading about this cancer of mine. It's rather unsettling. I think to myself, "But I feel GREAT! I am a super active person! None of this can really be true....I look and feel healthy." Again, the reality comes back into play when you're chugging a gallon of barium and water so that they can get a good look at your liver. The picture becomes even starker when you're sitting in a waiting room with other cancer patients who are hooked up to their chemo machines. I still don't feel like I belong here.
The last appointment of the day is to meet with the radiation oncologist - the doctor who will determine how much radiation they are going to blast into my tumor. He's another very nice man & he holds a special place in my heart because he is the one who tells me that the CAT scan from earlier in the day came back clear. And, I can keep my eye! The vision will probably suffer a bit, but I'll still have my own eye in my head and that was important to me.
We head out after a full 7 hour day of testing and head back home to Buffalo. We've still got to light the menorah and exchange our first gifts. I got a space heater and a cancer diagnosis for the first night of Hanukkah.
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