The one about the tumor growing...

Those of you who know me well, or have talked to me recently, know I am big into quotes these days. If I am sad, or lonely, or inspired, or really feeling any emotion at an extreme, I like to look at quotes about said emotion. This can lead to some awesomely ridiculous Facebook statuses, or to me finding a quote that just is exactly right for the occasion. Tonight, I have found some quotes that seem particularly fitting for the day (and week) I have had:

Life is a shipwreck but we must not forget to sing in the lifeboats. ~Voltaire

The human spirit is stronger than anything that can happen to it. ~C.C. Scott

If children have the ability to ignore all odds and percentages, then maybe we can all learn from them. When you think about it, what other choice is there but to hope? We have two options, medically and emotionally: give up, or fight like hell. ~Lance Armstrong


I know this blog is usually somewhat upbeat, and people like to tell me that I should write books, or at least write comedy. I also know that some of my recent posts from 2011 haven't been the most upbeat. This one will probably be along the same lines.

My cardiologist called me today. That's right, 2 days after my TEE, and I had this voicemail on my phone, direct from Dr. T. So, being the good patient that I am, I called him back. And after being put on hold a few times and getting transferred to the nurse, my stomach pretty much dropped out of my stomach. The tumor has grown. Significantly. No idea what this really means, since I was too shocked to ask the right questions (or any questions at all). They had made me an appointment. For next Friday. At St. Luke's. With a new doctor, Dr. Fish. For an Angiogram. As far as I can tell, the angiogram will help to show the doctors the flow of blood in my heart, and specifically the flow of blood to the tumor. The nurse who I spoke with about the procedure explained in pretty good detail, but started talking about balloons and stints, neither of which I think really are what they will do to me, since they will eventually want the tumor out, not just pushed to one side. I guess we will talk options after the angiograms. Never really thought I would be talking about options at age thirty. At least options for me.

So, after I finished taking notes on the back of my CVS receipt about things such as to make sure I packed an overnight bag for the hospital, and to fast after midnight (I am a pro at this by now), I hung up, and just stared at Jessica, who was sitting next to me in my car, and I don't think knew what to say to me. At that moment, the cupcake truck rolled up for the cupcake fundraiser we were about to have, and I had little choice but to plaster on a smile and greet my friends for the next 45 minutes as we sold a ridiculous amount of cupcakes to raise money for our Avon walk. Probably this was the best thing that could have happened, because it is incredibly powerful to have so many close friends of yours show up to support you in something so meaningful to begin with. People came, bought cupcakes, gave hugs, and visited briefly before going their separate ways for the weekend. It really was cool to see everyone, and gave me the distraction I needed at that point.

After we sold out of cupcakes in record time (ok, no idea if it was really record time, but I'm going with it), we headed in to hang out at Bullritos and wait for stragglers, and then grabbed dinner with Jenny and the boy next door at the sandwich place (Caitlin, I know this is your favorite, and I totally thought of you!). I made it through dinner and into the car before I called my mom and discussed this with her. I made it through that conversation and half way to Veronica's before I lost it. I have cried in my car before, it is actually the best place to cry because there is music, good climate control, and really tinted windows. I am super ugly when I cry (trust me, I checked today), so it is better to be in a tinted environment. I also (and this is something that only my close friends ever knew about me) have this chicken pox scar under my left eye that turns red when I cry, and stays red long after the tears are gone. It's kind of my thing, and I have known about it since high school. Weird, but true. (Dont you feel like you know me so much better now?) Anyway, so I cried, pulled it together, and rolled over the Veronica's, where we proceeded to talk life for 2 hours. That was just what I needed. Sorry to all of you who I texted and them promptly ignored, but I needed to talk to someone, and Veronica was pretty much the perfect choice.

Eventually I drove home, and cried some more. It is weird though, I was not really crying about the tumor, or even the fear of what the tumor could end up doing or being. I mean, I think that might have been some of it, but really, I think I was upset about the impact this is about to have on my life. Hmm, sounds selfish as I write it. I guess I don't mean it quite like that. But, then again, it is my tumor, and so I guess I can be a little selfish. So, I am supposed to move to NM. In like 2 weeks. Somehow I feel like this just got derailed. I am not positive, but the timing is just horrendous. And those of you who know me well know I am pretty laid back, but like to have control over my own life. I couldn't care less what you do in your life, but in mine, I like control. And planning. And knowing. And all of a sudden, that is all out of the window. And I just realized I didn't want to deal with it. I cried in the shower for a few minutes. I'm not a huge crier, mostly because I usually get to the point (really quickly) where I can't figure out what crying is going to help. However, I am big believer in the release of tension through crying, and how important this is. So, I'm in the shower, crying and snotty and gross (crying with a cold sucks), and I look down at my legs, and all I can think is "damn, I am going to have to shave my entire leg for this procedure. Damn. That sucks!" And somehow, as I sort of giggled to myself, I realized I was ok, and was going to be ok. If you can still be annoyed with having to shave your legs, things just can't be all that bad.

I have been super positive (or mostly at least) since last March. And I have faced some hideous tests in life (even as I write this, though, I can't help but think how other people in my life has faced things that are so much worse than any of my problems...). And this might be the ones that cracks me. I am trying to be positive, but I am just done. I just want it out. I want my life back, and I want to not have to deal with the surprises life likes to throw at me anymore. Just for a few months. Just something easy for a while. So, we will see. I guess what they say, about whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger (which I have always unconditionally believed), really is true. And this will just be the next test. I hope I am strong enough to get through it. And if I am not, at least I have some awesome people to lean on and let take care of me. And for that, I am so thankful. So thanks for getting me through this (in advance), thanks for making me laugh, bringing me ice cream, and cleaning my house for me (hey, a girl can try, right?). I'm working on being positive about this, and laughing through life as I have done for 30 years, so we will see how it all goes...Good Lord, what a crazy ride!