You'll never look at red Kool-Aid the same again!

Sorry I wasn't able to post sooner, I've been on the phone for what feels like all day, and then we had to go to the grocery store after dinner (which is my hubby's absolute favorite week night activity).

So the news is good. Really good actually. Turns out my oncologist thinks my general surgeon read the ultrasound wrong and there are no tumors at all!!! Just this giant, ugly, fluid-filled sack. But before I tell you that story, let me tell you this story. Let's do a play-by-play of what happened when my oncologist decided to do an impromptu biopsy of the "tissue" in my lump.

Pat: Looks at me and mouths "Should we tell him there's just fluid in there???
Me ::violently shaking head no:: (for fear of being one of "those" patients that tries to tell the doctor how to do his job)
Doctor does his whole spiel about what he's going to do with the freakishly long, clicky instrument that's meant to extract solid masses of tissue
Pat (going against my instructions, bad husband, tsk tsk): "Actually, we've had this biopsied and the fluid has been drained twice. The last time she got it drained was 3 weeks ago."
Doctor (half listening, half focusing on doing the biopsy and simultaneously getting squirted with the kool-aid colored fluid that comprises my bump): "Huh, look at that. There's no tissue in there, only fluid."

I only wish that there could have been some sort of gushing explosion ("This is why I now have a lazy eye") to add to the comedic element of this scene. But alas, I did not get my wish.

Now I realize that this makes my doctor sound like an idiot, but it wasn't entirely his fault. My surgeon coded my last procedure wrong (believe me, I have the EoB from my insurance company to prove it), which led my oncologist to believe that there might be tissue there to extract.

Anywho, he had told me earlier in our conversation that out of the 800-1000 new cases of Sarcoma per year in the U.S., he usually treats about 50-60 of those cases. And he is 98% sure that what I have is not cancerous. Just a balloon that continues to fill up with fluid.

So our next course of action is surgery (surprise surprise). It's going to be an exploratory-type surgery, being that my case is unusual and he is unsure about why this condition exists within my body. I believe he used the term "enigma" in reference to my case (::Randi curtsies::). My surgery is scheduled for next Friday, May 15th (aka my birthday, best day ever, the day the world was blessed with my presence, etcetra etcetra). The best birthday present I can imagine is a clean bill of health, so in my ways I am very grateful. As my doctor so wittingly stated, "I have a great present for you, a four inch scar and the memory of going under the knife on your birthday." Ah yes, methinks I will never forget my 24th birthday.