My doctor lost the first core he took so had to go back for another. Its still in there and it is NOT comfortable. Man, I sweat so much on that table that Angela thought I peed.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Yesterday morning I had my bone marrow biopsy, and I have to say that I never wanted to feel that part of my body. Now I know exactly where my upper hip bone is and what it feels like to have things sucked out of it.
My doctor lost the first core he took so had to go back for another. Its still in there and it is NOT comfortable. Man, I sweat so much on that table that Angela thought I peed.
My doctor lost the first core he took so had to go back for another. Its still in there and it is NOT comfortable. Man, I sweat so much on that table that Angela thought I peed.
Monday, May 12, 2008
Last Friday I went to my Hematologist to get the results of some blood tests.
I've been having a pain in my upper left abdomen for some time now, and it turned out that I have a big spleen. A really big spleen. Like over twice its normal size: Imagine a 2-in diameter foot-long hot dog, as opposed to a bratwurst and you can imagine my spleen. I thought that sounded so stupid: "I have a big spleen." Or, when I was feeling extra Bard-ish: "I am full of spleen!" Just a dumb thing to have. Even the Latin didn't sound cool: Splenomegaly.
After two different ultra-sounds and a CT scan, my GP sent me to a Hematologist/Oncologist. Why a Hematologist? Well, because of the function of the spleen.The spleen is an organ that creates lymphocytes for the destruction and recycling of old red-blood cells. The spleen is also a blood reservoir. It supplies the body with blood in emergencies such as a bad cut. The spleen is also the location where white blood cells trap organisms. The blood work done by my GP showed a highly elevated White Blood Cell count, as well as elevated lymphocytes (the T and B cells that fight off infection).
The Hematologist ordered a lot of blood work done: it felt like they took about a pint of blood to study. He said that if the B-cells came back a s "monoclonal" then that would indicate a cancer. Monoclonal means that there is a LOT of clones from just one type of B-cell.
I went in to get my results last Friday. I wasn't expecting anything worse than :"Your spleen is malfunctioning and we have some drugs to help shrink it." At very worse: "We have to remove you spleen." And that was, I thought, ridiculously pessimistic.
My doctor came in (45 min late), sat down and told me that my B-cells are 60% monoclonal. He said I have Non-Hodgkin Lymphoma. Cancer. He said the B-cells of mine that are "Monoclonal" are labeled CD5(-) and CD10(-). He said some other things. He wrote information down in bad hand writing using a blue pen. I made some non-committal grunts of 'understanding'. I didn't hear a word he said. nor could I read his handwriting. I became very still.
I thought of Angela. I thought of Miles.
I started to think about how I could still direct at Sundance this Summer and also teach my classes and deal with this. I asked questions regarding schedules. I joked about him being an Ohio State fan and me being a Wisconsin fan. He started talking some more, and I stopped being able to keep myself together. I didn't break into hysterical sobs, screaming "Why? Oh, God why?" I cried. My nose ran. I had trouble keeping it together. It surprised me, the way I dealt with it: thinking about schedules. Anyone who knows me knows I don't keep a calendar, and all my attempts to keep a calendar fail after the first day or two. I have never been a real slave to a schedule, nor has mine ever been a real concern for me. I even commented on it in the doctor's office: "Maybe this is just my way of dealing with it," I said.
He walked me out and scheduled a PET/CT scan and a bone-marrow biopsy for Tuesday, May 13th (which is now tomorrow). The I left the hospital. I called my best-friend Scott and couldn't speak to him. It was when I had to say the words aloud that I lost it. A woman in a large green SUV nearly ran me down, and so I found my voice again to yell "Learn how to drive that big fucking thing you stupid bitch!" Getting mad at her allowed me to then speak to Scott and tell him the news; so I'm, in a way, grateful to her. Which doesn't absolve her from the crime of shitty driving.
I called Scott first for two reasons: 1) Angela was at work, and I didn't want to tell her over the phone. 2) He went through cancer treatment two years ago and would be able to relate without panicking.
After we spoke I thought of a great third reason: I'd broken the ice. I'd said the words and made them a reality to myself, and I was able to do that over the phone and to my best friend. This, then allowed me to tell my wife without breaking down. I think she appreciated that.
I still don't know how I'll tell my son.
Angela told her dad because his brother is married to a top Oncologist, and Angela wanted her opinion. I'd asked Angela to not say anything to anybody, just so we could have the weekend and decompress and deal, but she called her dad anyway. I know why she did it, but when she told me I got kind of harsh with her. I was mad because I didn't want her whole family to know about it.
Her: "Only my dad and my uncle and aunt know!" Me:
"No. You mom knows, which means everyone in your family now knows."
I didn't mean to get harsh with her, but I was angry, and I want to be able to control it. I immediately apologized and tried to make it up to her.
We still don't know if it's in my lymph nodes or my marrow, so that's what tomorrows PET/CT scan and bone marrow biopsy will determine. More information will be coming on Friday.
I've been having a pain in my upper left abdomen for some time now, and it turned out that I have a big spleen. A really big spleen. Like over twice its normal size: Imagine a 2-in diameter foot-long hot dog, as opposed to a bratwurst and you can imagine my spleen. I thought that sounded so stupid: "I have a big spleen." Or, when I was feeling extra Bard-ish: "I am full of spleen!" Just a dumb thing to have. Even the Latin didn't sound cool: Splenomegaly.
After two different ultra-sounds and a CT scan, my GP sent me to a Hematologist/Oncologist. Why a Hematologist? Well, because of the function of the spleen.The spleen is an organ that creates lymphocytes for the destruction and recycling of old red-blood cells. The spleen is also a blood reservoir. It supplies the body with blood in emergencies such as a bad cut. The spleen is also the location where white blood cells trap organisms. The blood work done by my GP showed a highly elevated White Blood Cell count, as well as elevated lymphocytes (the T and B cells that fight off infection).
The Hematologist ordered a lot of blood work done: it felt like they took about a pint of blood to study. He said that if the B-cells came back a s "monoclonal" then that would indicate a cancer. Monoclonal means that there is a LOT of clones from just one type of B-cell.
I went in to get my results last Friday. I wasn't expecting anything worse than :"Your spleen is malfunctioning and we have some drugs to help shrink it." At very worse: "We have to remove you spleen." And that was, I thought, ridiculously pessimistic.
My doctor came in (45 min late), sat down and told me that my B-cells are 60% monoclonal. He said I have Non-Hodgkin Lymphoma. Cancer. He said the B-cells of mine that are "Monoclonal" are labeled CD5(-) and CD10(-). He said some other things. He wrote information down in bad hand writing using a blue pen. I made some non-committal grunts of 'understanding'. I didn't hear a word he said. nor could I read his handwriting. I became very still.
I thought of Angela. I thought of Miles.
I started to think about how I could still direct at Sundance this Summer and also teach my classes and deal with this. I asked questions regarding schedules. I joked about him being an Ohio State fan and me being a Wisconsin fan. He started talking some more, and I stopped being able to keep myself together. I didn't break into hysterical sobs, screaming "Why? Oh, God why?" I cried. My nose ran. I had trouble keeping it together. It surprised me, the way I dealt with it: thinking about schedules. Anyone who knows me knows I don't keep a calendar, and all my attempts to keep a calendar fail after the first day or two. I have never been a real slave to a schedule, nor has mine ever been a real concern for me. I even commented on it in the doctor's office: "Maybe this is just my way of dealing with it," I said.
He walked me out and scheduled a PET/CT scan and a bone-marrow biopsy for Tuesday, May 13th (which is now tomorrow). The I left the hospital. I called my best-friend Scott and couldn't speak to him. It was when I had to say the words aloud that I lost it. A woman in a large green SUV nearly ran me down, and so I found my voice again to yell "Learn how to drive that big fucking thing you stupid bitch!" Getting mad at her allowed me to then speak to Scott and tell him the news; so I'm, in a way, grateful to her. Which doesn't absolve her from the crime of shitty driving.
I called Scott first for two reasons: 1) Angela was at work, and I didn't want to tell her over the phone. 2) He went through cancer treatment two years ago and would be able to relate without panicking.
After we spoke I thought of a great third reason: I'd broken the ice. I'd said the words and made them a reality to myself, and I was able to do that over the phone and to my best friend. This, then allowed me to tell my wife without breaking down. I think she appreciated that.
I still don't know how I'll tell my son.
Angela told her dad because his brother is married to a top Oncologist, and Angela wanted her opinion. I'd asked Angela to not say anything to anybody, just so we could have the weekend and decompress and deal, but she called her dad anyway. I know why she did it, but when she told me I got kind of harsh with her. I was mad because I didn't want her whole family to know about it.
Her: "Only my dad and my uncle and aunt know!" Me:
"No. You mom knows, which means everyone in your family now knows."
I didn't mean to get harsh with her, but I was angry, and I want to be able to control it. I immediately apologized and tried to make it up to her.
We still don't know if it's in my lymph nodes or my marrow, so that's what tomorrows PET/CT scan and bone marrow biopsy will determine. More information will be coming on Friday.
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