My mom can take the credit for this blog. She is the one, after all, who suggested that I keep a journal of my journey. I'd like to think that it will always be positive and uplifting, as that had been the hallmark of my personality until recent days. However, I think these entries may have their share of other emotions as well. To say that I'm always in a good mood these days is an exaggeration. Anyway...let's begin.
I was diagnosed with cancer on Friday, December 16th, 2011. Shocking!!!! Awkward!!!! What a moment. I will certainly never forget that day. Here I was, sitting in the chair at the opthamologist, thinking that my retina had detached...or was, at the very least, in the beginning stages of detachment. I remember when he first looked in my eye and said "Oh yes...I see something in there." I actually felt relief with those words. Relief! I had worried all along that I was going to go see the doctor and be told that the flashes of light, the pinpoints of light, all of those weird sensations were just a figment of my imagination. Anyone who knows me well can attest to the fact that I do not go to the doctor, nor do I claim any sort of weakness when it comes to my physical health. So...the fact that I finally broke down and told my husband and parents that I was going to see an eye specialist because I thought something might actually be going on in that right eye of mine...all of this was pretty historic!
So...that first day in the Ross Eye Institute, after saying that he sees something in my right eye, my journey began. The next thing I know, I've got two opthamologists over me. I'm being told that we need to get some pictures of my eye, an angiogram with dye, an ultrasound, and a contact exam. None of this makes sense to me, but the doctor tell me to clear my schedule for the rest of the day because it didn't look like I was going to be making it into work after all. I'm still wondering what all of this could mean. The doctor tells me he sees a lesion and that we need more tests to confirm its cause. I really don't understand what he's telling me at this point.
I go back to the photography area. At the first machine, the technician asks me if I know what they are looking for in my eye. I tell her that I heard I have a lesion and then ask her if that means that I have a tear in my retina. She says something like, 'Ohhh....no." Then the doctor comes in....he is quite insistent upon making sure she gets good pictures and stands over her shoulder to make sure. Then, he's injecting dye into my arm while I keep being told to "Look down and as far to your right as you can." More pictures later, and I'm sent to another waiting room before the next round of tests.
While I'm waiting, I start to get nervous for the first time. That technician certainly had an odd response when I told her about my misunderstanding of what 'lesion' means. So...not being one with any sort of medical knowledge, I decide to make good use of my time waiting by Googling "lesion on retina" on my iPhone. Granted, I can't see any of the search results because my eyes are dilated. The first search hit takes me to a page with many conditions listed of multiple words, most of which I do not understand. I decide it is too much work, and I will just ask the doctor what he is suspecting when I go back for the exam.
I am called back into the exam room, and now I have two doctors and one nurse in the room with me. Seems like an awful lot of people in my opinion. I ask the main doctor "What is it that you are seeing in my eye?" He responds with "I will tell you all about it after these next few tests. I just want to confirm my suspicions first." My anxiety kicks into full force now. Gone is my feeling of relief in knowing that something is really wrong with me. Now I'm wondering...what the hell is he not telling me???
One ultrasound and one other exam later, and I'm left with an eye that feels completely crazy and covered in gel. I cannot see, I can barely keep the eye open and I'm just wanting to know what the hell is going on. The nurse leaves the room and the doctor pulls in close to me.
"Today, I am diagnosing you with choroidal melanoma of the right eye." I ask him to repeat himself. He's Italian with a thick accent, and while I understand the melanoma part...I wasn't so sure about the first word. 'Choroidal melanoma' he tells me again. "Spell the first word" I ask...he spells it and then looks at me again and says "the second word is melanoma." I respond..."Yes...I understand that word...." and the thought that he is telling me that I have cancer starts sinking in. Then, he tells me that there is not an oncologist in Buffalo who can treat me due to the fact that this is a very rare cancer and we just don't have that type of specialist here. My options are to go to Cleveland or Philadelphia. He asks which I would prefer because they would like to call and schedule the appointment before I leave. I tell him I would like to go to Cleveland and he sends the other doctor out to make the appointment. Then, he's telling me that there are new procedures being used and that the goal will be to save my eye. He tells me about plaque brachytherapy...or radiation, and I'm asking him if this is going to affect my vision. He tells me ' our goal is to save the eye over saving your vision.'
Now, I am in shock. I tell him I am ready to leave unless they need me for anything else. He tells me that I am free to go and that they will call me to tell me when my appointment has been made at The Cleveland Clinic.
I remember walking out and standing on Main Street in downtown Buffalo. The sun is shining brightly. I can barely see due to the fact that my eyes are dilated. I call Graham and tell him to come pick me up. I tell him that I will tell him in person what is going on, but that I didn't have good news. I stand there in shock...leaning up against the cold brick of the building. A couple of guys who work at the car wash I always go to walk by, and I can't even look up at them. I'm just thinking to myself..."Have I really just been told that I have cancer?"
Graham pulls up...I get in the car and tell him, "I have choroidal melanoma. I have to go to the Cleveland Clinic because no one here works on this type of cancer. How the fuck am I going to tell my parents about this?"
No comments:
Post a Comment