Oh, off to meet my oncologist.

Dear Mr. Hodgkin's,

Shall we revert back to my oncology appointment this past Friday? I'm hesitant because although two days have passed, the shock and the fear seem painfully fresh. I've been chiding myself for my stunned response, sir; I'm very much disliking this disoriented feeling you provoke, but can't seem to bypass it. Will there be a time when you cease to offend me, sir? Or is my offense possibly a cause to celebrate: my heart remaining tender under your rough grasp? I must probe further and possibly deeper: why are we repelled when bad things happen to us? As if we deserve otherwise? Is it not inevitable in this life? Sir, I see this as nothing but a sure sign as to how we were made; our Creator's original design for us humans was always to live in perfect peace testified in the Garden of Eden. I digress.

I laid in bed Friday morning staring at my ceiling. I heard voices and a bit of commotion downstairs, but couldn't get myself to move. If I did, I knew I'd have to face the day and what could potentially unfold, which jolted fear in every crevice of my mind. How far have you spread at this point? What treatment would be necessary to get rid of you and for how long? How much pain is involved (I'm pretty much a child)? What are the side effects, short-term and long-term? And the question that is still hard for me to spit out... what's the percentage of those who completely heal from you? Eh. If my bladder wasn't so demanding, this rampage would have gone on longer than the 30 minutes already spent, but begrudgingly, I hoisted myself out of my comforting bed, and with every effort I could muster, faced the day.

Sitting in the lobby of the oncology center, I surveyed the scene.  I saw a silver-haired man sit alone as he candidly talked to the receptionist... must be a long-time patient. I looked to the right as a short grandma in her 80's was being escorted inside the building with her arm looped around the arm of a younger man twice her size... her son? My eyes drifted back to the left where an older woman obviously well into her chemotherapy sat near a fake fireplace... with a scarf wrapped around her head and her eyes somewhat hollow. Please, Lord, let the life remain in my body and let joy still mark my face. It quickly became apparent to me that I was the only one in the lobby under the age of 55 (besides my oh-so-young parents that sat to my right). At that, I looked right at my parents and shared my thoughts, "I should not be here. Man, I'm only 23. I hate this... I just really hate this."

It was then that I heard my name called, and within minutes, my parents and I were stuffed into a baby patient room like sardines. I was told this two-hour meeting would be packed with information and could be overwhelming. Advice: Bring a couple more ears and a way to record everything. Thus, mom, dad and a G2 pen (nothing better). A nurse sat down and started going through my records, family history, and current state of health. "You seem healthy, how often a week do you work out?"
Oops, haven't since sophomore year of college.
"Well, do you at least oblige a healthy diet?"
I had ice cream cake for dinner last night.
"Um, okay..." And then came the argument for staying fit, maintaining a healthy diet, yada, yada, yada.
Yes, lady, I've heard this all before; I'm sorry to say I'm still not convinced...
Let's just say, she did not seem pleased.

I soon wondered what my oncologist would be like, but I didn't have to wait long to find out... With a couple knocks, a burly man with suspenders walked in, greeting me with a very thick-Polish accent. He exuded a quiet confidence as he shook our hands, sat down and positioned his chair but a few feet away from myself, staring right into my eyes.  If the situation wasn't so serious, I would have thought he instigated a staring contest; that of which I would have surely won. Trust me, in Kid-O-Deo, I'm a reigning champ. Nonetheless, I'm somewhat competitive, so even if the situation deems it unnecessary, I still rise to the occasion.... so I stared right back.  He dived right into the information and throughout it all, I knew he was trying to read me, get to know my reactions, as he paused after delivering each blow, each miserable side effect, each piece of treatment. (Side-note: He never averted his eyes... until he had to address a question from my parents. Winner.) Everything he said was so overwhelming, I finally took a breath at the end and then looked down to realize I never wrote anything down. 

But here is what I did learn about you, Mr. Hodgkin's (via the notes of my mother):

• My tumors (ew) are attacking the supportive tissue around the lymph nodes.
• There are different types of you, sir, and I have the "Classical Nodular" kind, which is reported to be the most common and easiest to treat.
• I have to go through 4 more tests this week to determine exactly what stage you are at, sucka (3 on Monday, February 6th and 1 on Tuesday, February 7th). They know you are at a Stage 2 or 3, and if you are only found in my upper diaphragm, I will be diagnosed at Stage 2. These tests will also determine the health and strength of my lungs and heart.
• Treatment for you, in my case, will only be chemotherapy and not radiation, and this will be given every 2 weeks for a total of 6 months/12 doses.
• How to know chemotherapy is working? PET scans will be taken after 2 months and then at 6 months.
• I have an appointment back with my oncologist this Friday to go over my tests' results and talk more about treatment and when to schedule those.
• Here's the biggest blow: I will need to be on a healthy diet and I'm supposed to be active... I knew that nurse gave me a smirk as she turned to walk out of the room.

So Mr. Hodgkin's, it seems as if my day tomorrow will again be spent at the good ol' hospital because of you... It appears you are enjoying this. Hmm, no matter: I have an entire herd of people praying for me and against you and this is the truth we stand on: "Now this I know: the Lord gives victory to His anointed. He answers him from His heavenly sanctuary with the victorious power of His right hand. Some trust in chariots and some in horses, but we trust in the name of the Lord our God. They are brought to their knees and fall, but we rise up and stand firm" Psalm 20:6-8. You may scoff, but "indeed, none who wait for Him shall be put to shame" Psalm 25:3. Claiming that all the way down and back...

Yours Truly,
Heid