carbonated joy

We had to be at the hospital entirely too early.

It was the day for my BIG lymphadenopathy!

That’s a multi-syllable word for a biopsy to find out what is next on my cancer adventure.

We were surrounded by stories in a surgical waiting room.

There was some weird family drama going on next to us. There was an elderly mother yelling at a middle aged daughter. The daughter was still wearing Christmas pajamas…

They must have been comfortable.

We got to see our amazing friend, Sheryl, she had come downtown to pray for us. The hospital is a crazy place on a Thursday morning, but she is a friend who is willing to venture the unfamiliar. She has done that for us often during this adventure and we appreciate her so much.

After about an hour, we were led to a smaller waiting room, and then taken to small sanitary smelling room where I was asked seven hundred and thirty two questions and handed a lovely green gown and purple fuzzy skid proof socks. I was told to strip down to nothing else. The next few minutes a team of well scrubbed strangers came into my room lifted up my gown and looked at my privates (many of which have looked quite odd during this whole process).

that is unsettling.

I was given a “mild” drug to relax me before the big anesthesia, but that was seriously the last thing that I remember until they woke me up in the recovery room with some new initials carved in my gut.

At that point, the plan was to put on my clothes and go home…

But…

My blood pressure and hemoglobin were down after the surgery, and so my outpatient surgery turned into an over night stay.

yeah!!!

We were escorted to a lovely redecorated room on the sixth floor.

Hospitals never sleep.

Neither do the patients.

There is constant activity.

The lady across the hall from us was quite upset that her IV machine kept beeping, rather than using the nurse call button she started screaming at the top of her lungs: “GET DOWN HERE NOW!! TURN THIS THING OFF!!” all night long…seriously…all night long!

The same lady was yelling more and making some strange yakking noises that resembled a constipated goat the next morning.

I pray that she is okay…and that no constipated goats were harmed.

The nurses woke me up to check my stats every seven minutes, took blood a few times and then I had a blood transfusion at 4:00 am…

that was a first, I usually like to have coffee first.

Diana got to “sleep” on a crunchy vinyl couch. This journey has been so very hard on her, but she is the bravest and strongest person I know.

My rockstar sister, Hope, flew into town to help Diana and make sure that I take my meds without falling down. She is my “little” sister but she has been watching out for me for as long as I can remember. She is one of my best friends. My silly words cannot express the appreciation I have for her.

Our friends, the Landmans brought me a big incredible stack of comic book art signed by legendary artist, Joe Rubinstein. What a great gift and reminder to keep fighting.

We got to come home last night! I broke out of that joint in a blazing wheelchair driven by a sweet young lady with beautiful dreadlocks. I was clutching my lovely souvenir pink barf bucket.

I’m currently pretty sore, loopy, and nauseous, which is an average Saturday morning for some people. But, I’m not crazy about it.

Now, we have been told that we will find out results this Friday. That’s when we should know the next step on this ugly, beautiful road.

Giddy Up!