In (Not-So) Loving Memory of My Lump

Dear Lump,
I am afraid that this is my final farewell. Your days of being poked and prodded are over. We have dealt with some trying times together, both good and bad. But your fate has been decided, and you will be meeting your maker (in the form of an oncologist holding a scalpel) in a matter of hours. I hate to say it, dear lump, but I feel as if my life will be richer without you. No more will I have to worry about the embarrassment you bring me, and no more will I fear that others are gossiping about the young lady with the lop-sided hump back. May you rest in peace, you selfish jerk.

And We Have a (Likely) Diagnosis!!!!!!

The doctor's office just called to give me the lab results.

::Drumroll, please::

And the mystery lump is... a CYST!!!!!!!! (Are you freaking kidding me, the surgeon could not have figured this out?????) I almost fell off my chair!!! All of this worrying, multiple doctor's visits, hundreds of dollars, thousands of dollars spent on the part of the insurance company (hello $2200 lab bill, thank God for health insurance) for a freaking cyst?!?!? This story seems to have such an uneventful climax.

Thank you Lord, for this wonderful day, for giving us the strength and grace to get through this, and for our wonderful friends and family, because their prayers have no doubt helped us pull through.

Four more days, and hopefully we can put this all behind us.

A High School Girl?? Seriously?!?!?

I find it more than mildly amusing that I have been mistaken for a high-schooler not once or twice, but about five times since I started tutoring high school-aged kids. I thought maybe the badge I wear that says "Placer County Office of Education, Foster Youth Services Tutor" might be a dead giveaway. Or maybe the beautiful rings strategically placed on the 3rd finger of my left hand. I actually had one teacher jump down my throat just today, and threaten to send me to detention for not having a hall pass! Now I know I look young, but do I really look like a teenager?!?!?!?? This has gotten me thinking that I might need to upgrade my work wardrobe to something more "teacherly" or maybe start wearing my glasses more often (which I think make me look more intelligent, thus older as well). Probably, though, I should just get over it and enjoy the amusement that comes from flashing my badge at an unsuspecting teacher, just to prove her wrong.

This, ladies and gentlemen, has been Randi's Random Thought of the Day.

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.

Another Double-Post Day

I cannot believe that tomorrow is the day of my appointment with my new oncologist. I've had such a busy last couple of weeks at work that I thought these 2 weeks would fly by. While I still spend my workdays being chronically late everywhere I go (shhh Michelle, please don't tattle on me), I'm also feeling like this has been the longest 2 weeks of my life.

One part of me feels almost a giddy excitement at the prospect of finally getting some concrete answers and a diagnosis (only 6 months, 4 doctors, and 1 surgery later). But my anxiety has gotten exponentially worse over the last 8 hours, and probably will continue to do so until my appointment tomorrow. The unknown is frustrating, but at least it's familiar.

Well, it's time for me to get out and get some fresh air. Pat's having a drink with his coworkers tonight, and I need to get the h*ll out of this house before my anxiety turns me into a crazy woman (haha, it actually might be too late for that). I'm going to go take a walk and enjoy our sunny, mild weather. I'll post an update tomorrow.

Hugs,

A Shot of Inspiration...

...for someone who is dealing with much harder struggles than myself.

We just found out today that the father of one of our best friends in MT has Stage IV Pancreatic Cancer. It's been a long 3 months for Justin and Jess, who have been dealing with the ups and downs of this diagnosis from 3,000 miles away. The progression of this terrible disease took a turn for the worse on Sunday night, and they made the decision to catch the next flight to Maine. By the grace of God, Justin's dad condition has since stabilized, but they have decided to pack up and move to the East Coast to be with Justin's family during this difficult time. No doubt Justin and Jess are exhausted from the roller coaster of a ride that they've been through over the last few months. My prayer for them (and all those who are dealing with the struggles that come with chronic illness) is that they trust in the Lord to give them the strength and energy to handle whatever comes next.

Those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.
Jeremiah 29:11

You are in our thoughts and prayers. We love you guys!

Is it the weekend yet???

TGIF!!! Don't get me wrong, I love my job. But I've been so ridiculously busy this week that I've been running habitually late every single day this week!!!! And those who know me know that I detest being late to anything. Looking forward to a relaxing weekend.