You Scared the Life Out of Me!

The last few months have been… interesting, to say the least.

Lots of changes at work, and some typical 10-year-old-kid angst, Alan traveling more for work and polar vortexes were all just the beginning of the eye-twitch inducing quarter.

About a month ago, I thought it was time to check in with all my appropriate doctors. Given all the stress and frustration coupled with turning 50, I thought it in my best interest to get all the particulars a seal of approval.

I had my physical all set, and then put it in my calendar exactly 1 week AFTER it actually was suppose to take place. Yep, brain burp, and yet another indicator of the need for examination. I rescheduled.

Next up, and not forgotten, my gyne visit. When you've gone through menopause, it's not as awful as it use to be. But I had had some pain in my lower left abdomen, so I thought it worth mentioning.

My visit went pretty text book, with him identifying my fibroid I've been carrying around for 18 years or more. But, he scheduled an ultrasound, he wanted to be safe. How could I argue? With women in my family having lost their battles with breast, ovarian and lung cancer, I'd take any opportunity to rule out any chance of possible deadly disease.

I showed up a week later and endured a relatively benign procedure. It only took about 10 minutes in total, and then I dressed to go meet with my doctor.

I had a feeling things weren't going the way I was hoping, when I saw his face. My normally affable physician actually had worry lines. His slow-paced demeanor was replaced with an anxious disposition. While my uterus lining was thinning, and there appeared to be more fibroids, the really disconcerting finding was fluid in my abdomen.

Don't bother googling it, there's nothing good about having fluid in your abdomen. The main concern of my doc's was that it might be ovarian cancer, since they couldn't see my ovaries during the examination. He was going to draw some blood for testing, and send an order over to radiology for an MRI on my abdomen.

He shared that his 80 year old mother had just been recently diagnosed for ovarian, and the only indicator had been this fluid on the abdomen.

Yeah, I remained calm, but on the inside it felt like insult being added to injury.

I couldn't wrap my head around it. Was this one of those moments that you're tested to find the lesson in all of it? My normally positive outlook, shot straight to the negative. It seemed that the cosmos was just piling on. Would I be able to find the pony at that bottom of the box of manure?

I took control, and made my MRI appointment as soon as I could. The Saturday after my gyne visit, I had a 7AM appointment to get this completed and hoping for more answers.

I've decided that all my major tests should be done at 7AM at the hospital. I parked on the 2nd floor, right by the bridge to the hospital. There was only one other person in the waiting room. I was in on time, and done within an hour and half of entering the hospital.

On Monday, I heard from my doctor. Looked like we were all clear on ovarian between the MRI and blood work. Whew.

BUT, they did still identify fluid on the abdomen, and his worry was that it might be associated with my melanoma. Could I have had 5 minutes of relief, please? No? Ok, we'll move on to what I do next to figure out what the hell is going on.

Test the fluid on my abdomen, via the interventional radiology. where they use ultrasound and a loooonnnnnngggg needle to draw fluid out of the abdomen and send it to testing.

Getting this appointment took a little longer than I liked, but after some "faxing orders" and "you need to call here" "not there" and more, I had it. My appointment was Monday, Feb. 17th, just after Valentine's Day.

Enter, snowstorm and miserable weather. Appointment is moved to Tuesday, February 18th. It's not been 12 days since the original, simple appointment.

It was a little busier in this department and my aunt went with me to keep me company, and probably because she was worried too. I looked around the waiting room, and wondered what the stories were with all these families. The elderly couple in the corner, who was being examined today? Was it him, did he have cancer? He had a bald head. The family of four, were they waiting on someone already back in the testing area? How were the kids doing? Shouldn't they be in school?

Your mind likes to think of things outside your world, so you don't focus on the negative you're thinking about when you do concentrate on you.

I walked back to the prep area. This was the test that would tell me exactly what the hell was going on, I just wanted it done, and the fluid out to the test facility. I changed, I joked with the staff, asked for a tummy tuck while they were sucking stuff out, etc. etc. All the usual deflection one of my personality would probably default to, but it seemed appreciated.

Through the prep curtains, I could hear some of the stories around me. The older man I had seen, was having a port put in. He did have cancer. From what it sounded like, he'd been battling it for a couple of years. There was a man in another area that I could hear nod off and snore til it sounded like he was drowning. Then his wife would say something, and he'd wake up to answer her.

Then it was my turn to be expertly wheeled out by Kelsey, my nurse. She navigated me left and right and between equipment to a little alcove room with an ultrasound machine and a tray of instruments. Our young lad who was still in training to earn his DR. came in and explained the procedure.

Numbing agent… burns a little going in… then needle for extraction…all while being observed on the ultrasound.

I joked with him about how I never should have googled my symptoms, and he commented on how sometimes ignorance is bliss. I agreed, but offered that knowledge was power, and I was hoping that the test results from the fluid would give us some answers and a course of action. He agreed, as he snaked the needle to it's intended dark spot in my stomach area.

He got to it in one try. I could see it all on the ultrasound. He pulled back on the plunger to extract the liquid…. nothing. He tried again. Again, nothing.

This is where I think the young doctors need some improv coaching. His face went straight to concern, he was going to get his attending, maybe the liquid was too viscous …talk talk talk. Poor kid.

Kelsey, my nurse, switched out with another nurse who had some awesome tattoo's. He was equal to the nursing task. Northwestern has great nurses, I learned that when mom was in Pallative Care there before she died. They rock.

So, the attending came in with the kid. He felt there simply wasn't enough fluid to extract anything, and his student had been right on the money. When he reviewed my MRI, he saw the fluid, but truly felt it was fluid that would resolve itself. He wasn't concerned and suggested a get a follow up ultrasound at my doctor's office in 2 weeks. If it hadn't resolved then we'd try something else.

ok?

My poor student dr. was so upset, more than me! I touched his arm, "what's wrong, I'm ok with this." He responded, "But knowledge is power, right? And you wanted answers and a plan of action. I can't do that for you. I'm sorry."

After three weeks of this path, I found myself comforting him. And I meant it. It was the first time in three weeks that I said, "I'll be ok, don't worry," and I meant it.

My follow-up is scheduled. Until then, I'll stay positive.

But, what came out of all of this, so far, is that I had really started to let others control my life and self-worth. I don't know when it happened, but this scare brought with it a clarity.

If I am to best care for myself, my family, my co-workers, I needed to take back the control I gave up. I needed to prioritize and rid myself of the things I can't change. I can't leave a legacy to my son that I'm a doormat or that I'm a passive participant in life.

Just that switch in mental attitude has brought to the forefront more opportunities for me. Karma has done it's bit to handle those things I can not. Hopefully, if I continue to practice what I preach to others, I can take back the control I lost, move into a more healthy future and learn when to say "enough" when the stress starts to build.