The Speed of Life

September 2, 2011: This morning, I'm sitting in my office, surrounded by visual reminders of how blessed I am - photos of family, good books and music, my favorite painting of the Salt Lake Temple. I've got my bottle of iced water, a few crackers with cheese, the window is open to a cool breeze, and the construction guys are hammering down shingles on the new house to a lively rhythm. Oh, yeah - and I have a bandage on my neck again from another surgery yesterday...

Last Thursday, I was talking on the phone and felt what I thought was a bug bite or sting on my neck. I kind of waved my hand over the spot, hoping to shoo away the bug, and continued on with my phone call. When I finished, I went into the bathroom to see if I had really been bitten. There was a little red spot above my collarbone on the left side of my neck, but when I got feeling around, I realized the "bite" was really a lump - about the size of a pea - under my skin. A lump, not a bite. Underneath. And it hurt a bit to touch it. Sound familiar?

Through the rest of the day and night, I went through a roller coaster of emotions - denial, anger, guilt, sadness. It couldn't be another lump, could it? Maybe if I waited an hour or so, it would go away. Maybe if I prayed really hard, it was disappear. How could this be? Hadn't I had enough already? Maybe it's my fault. Maybe I didn't rest enough. Maybe it was brought on by stress. Maybe I should have eaten more veggies and less sugar. Maybe I should have taken that supplement I read about. What if I have to have more surgery or more radiation? How will my family react? They'll be devastated. They'll worry. Oh, I had such a GREAT, happy summer, and now this. I didn't want to tell anyone, but before long, the burden was crushing me. I cried as I told Dean and he held me close. I was afraid and I was sad, and I went to bed that night terribly depressed.

But, Friday morning, the fighter in me perked up. I called Dr. Bradley's office and talked to his nurse, Carol. I told her that I had found a small lump and wondered if I was supposed to have Dr. B check it out or if I needed to call Dr. Avizonis or Dr. Grossmann about it. I told her that I was scheduled to have another CAT scan in a couple of weeks at the Huntsman Center. She said she would ask Dr. B and call me back. In less than 15 minutes, she was on the phone, telling me that Dr. B wanted to see me and could I come to the Bountiful Clinic early Monday morning? Of course I could. Another tender mercy. Another miracle.

Saturday was busy. I helped with our Visiting Teaching interviews in the morning and went to the temple in the afternoon. I put my own name on the prayer roll, along with the names of family members and friends I had on my mind and in my heart. That night, we tended Avery and Jane while Ally (and her parents) took her friends to the movie for her birthday. Sunday, I held my secret close during the Sacrament and prayed for strength. Our home teachers came and I put on my happy face, still not willing to share with anyone besides my dear husband. For dinner, we went to Aaron and Lindsey's to celebrate Ally's 8th birthday and had a wonderful meal with our sweet kids and grand-girls. And whenever I was alone, I probed my neck, wishing against all wishes that the lump had disappeared miraculously...somehow.

Monday morning, I dropped Janessa off to school and went to the Bountiful Clinic. It was the first time I'd been back to the Dermatology/Ear, Nose, Throat desk since that fateful day in March when I was first diagnosed. I found I was shivering as I checked in. Nurse Carol called me back to the exam room and soon, I was shaking hands again with Dr. Bradley. He asked me some questions and then asked me to sit on the exam table. With his wonderful "magic" fingers, he first massaged/examined my "old" neck for the first time since radiation. My wound literally tingled, whether from awakening nerves or from intense stimulation, almost like an electrical shock. It was a strange sensation, like when you hit your funny bone. He continued to probe the back of my neck and my upper back, and then, he moved over to the left side. He felt the lump and said, "Oh, that's a little feller." It made me smile. When he was finished, he sat down to talk in his easy-going, but knowledgeable, way and I was instantly comforted. He would fix this. He would know how. He explained that because the lump was so small (tender mercy!), a needle biopsy would be difficult. For one thing, the lump was mobile and it would be hard to capture enough fluid to make a good test. He said I had two options: he could use local anesthesia in his office to cut off a part of the lump for testing, or I could have out-patient surgery to have it completely removed. I didn't even hesitate. I told him I wanted it out and gone. He said, "It could just be a swollen lymph node caused by a virus or stress. But if it should have cancer in it, we know what comes next, don't we?" All too well. Nurse Carol came in with his surgery book, and it just so happened that he had had a cancellation for Thursday. I said, "THIS Thursday?" Yes, this Thursday, three days away. Okay, put me down. I'm there.

In between Monday and Thursday, I worked, cleaned house, visited with two of my neighbor ladies in their homes, went to chorus rehearsal, helped with another night of VT interviews and an RS meeting, did grocery shopping - all my normal, busy activities. The fear was gone. I had a wonderful "A-HA" moment when I realized that all three of my doctors - Dr. Bradley, Dr. Avizonis, and Dr. Grossmann - had prepared me for this scenario months ago when they explained how melanoma is like a "ghost" - it can pop up any where, any time, and that the regularly-scheduled scans would show us if anything had "grown" large enough to be taken out surgically. The fact that I had found this lump on my own was a blessing from a loving Heavenly Father, who was telling me that it was big enough to feel and be removed but not too large to cause as much damage as my first tumors. I also realized that this is my new life. I don't need to be overly alarmed (and neither does my family) if and when I find a lump - it's all part of this sneaky, mean disease I have. Whatever happens will be taken care of. I don't need to be babied or coddled or cried over. As long as I have the strength to fight, I can and will.

The hospital called me Wednesday and told me my surgery was scheduled for 2:30 on Thursday afternoon. This was another blessing because Dean could work a half day and still take me to the appointment. I finally told my family. Janessa made arrangements with her friend, Carol, to go home from school with her until we could pick her up. I told my sweet friend, Ann, and she promised to put my name on the "brethren's" prayer roll at the Salt Lake Temple, which means President Monson actually said my name aloud in a sacred prayer. Thursday morning, I kept myself busy and the hours flew by. No food or water after 10:30, and I got very thirsty. Dean came home from work about 12:30, mowed the lawn, and showered. I worked as much as I could, each call whittling away the time. At 1:15, I called the Surgical Center to see if things were on schedule. They said Dr. Bradley was about 30 minutes behind, so I could wait to come in for about a half hour. Before we left home, Dean gave me a sweet blessing that I would feel calm. We arrived about 2:10, and I'm sure the ladies at the check-in desk were relieved to see me. I was called back, weighed (I'm now down 39 lbs total from March 3), shown to a waiting cubicle, and asked to put on the always-fashionable gown, pajama bottoms, and non-skid socks. I took out my contacts and put on my Sarah Palin glasses. Dean settled back to watch TV, but I was in the only comfy chair in the room. Nothing too interesting to watch at 3:00 in the afternoon, so there was a lot of channel surfing. There was a Mexican family in the room next to ours and we could hear them chattering with each other in Spanish. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a doctor go into their room and start talking to them in Spanish and I realized it was Dr. Bradley! What a guy. When he was finished, he put his head in my room and said, "I have this one other procedure just before yours, so it will be about another 30 minutes." He always asks me if I have any questions for him, and I'm amazed that he's answered everything already. Soon we heard the anesthesiologist in with our Mexican friends and before long, he's guiding a little dark-haired lady down the hall. I'm next, but it will be a while. I get fidgety. The nurse comes in to see if I have any questions and to go over my health history again. Finally, the anesthesiologist, Dr. Smith, arrives, armed with my IV bag and chart. He's an older guy. His hands are cold. He tells me that I'm the patient they've been waiting for since this morning - the LAST patient of the day. Goody. My veins cooperate today and poke right out. I tell him they're not always so available. He puts in the IV effortlessly and painlessly. I like him. We walk back to the operating room, a feat I still find kind of crazy. Like lambs to the slaughter, we go willingly. It's about 4:15. The room is cold, but I'm soon beneath a warm out-of-the-oven blanket. Dr. Smith jokes that while I may not be entirely comfortable lying there, he can at least make it so I don't care. Perfect. I remember him hooking up the meds to go into my IV. I remember him attaching the blood pressure cuff to my left arm. I remember him walking around the end of the operating table...and then I am out.

Next thing I know, I'm in the recovery room and Dean is sitting beside me, drinking Coke from a cup. The nurse is beside me, asking how I feel. Loopy. Tired. Can I just have another nap? But, there is no pain. I take deep breaths, trying to wake myself up. Dean says it's a little before 5:00, so the surgery took about 30 minutes. Not bad, compared to my last one, right? The nurse says Dr. Bradley has talked to Dean. I ask him what he said, and he tells me, "He said it was a little, swollen lymph node." Details, honey, I want details!! But that's all he remembers. It's been sent to the lab and it will be a few days before they get any results back. Soon, I'm able to sit up and get dressed. Our Mexican friend is leaving now, an ice pack and bandage on HER neck. Dean gets a soda refill and I get cold water through a straw. The nurses are cleaning up, counting meds, closing down for the day. I ride in a wheelchair out to the car. The nurse asks me if I've got dinner all arranged for the night. I tell her my husband is taking care of it and Dean raises his eyebrows. Good. He buys me a hamburger, Janessa comes home from Carol's house, I call Aaron & Linds and Chels and Mom, and then I "assume the position" on the couch for a while. There is very little pain. I take one painkiller before bed and sleep GREAT. I can even roll over on my (favorite position) left side and fall fast asleep without discomfort (I still can't lay on my right side without a little pain), so I know that is a blessing, too. I wake up this morning feeling good. I eat half a grapefruit for breakfast, take my vitamins, and have another pain pill. I haven't needed another one all day.

I am so grateful for my blessings. The speed at which all of this transpired amazes me. I know there are no coincidences or "it just so happened". I truly believe Heavenly Father wanted me to find this lump, get it removed, and move on. Whatever it turns out to be, I can handle it. If more radiation is required, I have the perfect mask for it. I am at peace and know that I am in God's hands...still. I may live WITH fear, but I do not live IN fear. Come what may, I am still God's child and He loves me. Absolutely amazing, isn't it?