This has been a shitty year! It started around this time last year when, after a routine blood test, I received a call from my doctor. Like, a personal call, not from his office, or the receptionist, but from him. I've never, in my adult life, had a doctor personally call me. But he did. Of course, this was an extremely rare time when I left the house without my phone. Go figure! However, he left a message that he would call back after five.
When I heard him I knew there was something ominous that showed up in my blood. He said I had high lymphocytes (which then, I had no idea what they were), and he was concerned about luekemia. He quickly, very quickly said, I'm not saying you have it, but we just want to make sure.
I asked questions, he answered and added he would contact a clinic that specializes in "that". That clinic was a cancer center. The person I was seeing was an Oncologist. I would see the Oncologist in December. He's a great guy, very encouraging, but told me nothing new. Instead he just ordered a five vial blood test. Did I mention that having my blood sucked out of me while a needle is sitting in my arm psychologically creeps me out???!!! Well, it certainly does. But I was about to quickly get used to it.
The blood test was done, and on January 24th I was diagnosed with Chronic Lymphocytic Luekemia. Otherwise known as CLL. The only symptom I have is fatigue. I wondered if it was just me getting old, or if it was the CLL. Fatigue is a common symptom of the cancer. But, it was stage 0 and I was put on Watch and Wait, required to have blood tests two to three times a year, and finally told that if I had to have cancer, this was the "good kind". I would die with it rather than of it. So... hello roomie! I hope you'll be comfortable floating around in my body, in my blood. Maybe we can make a pact; you won't bother me, if I don’t bother you. Deal? (Unfortunately, I don't think cancer cares about pacts!)
The following day, my beloved blue eyed boy, Milo, collapsed in our back yard. The day before he seemed fine. Little did I know! We rushed him to our vet, she told us a mass behind his spleen had burst and he was bleeding internally. We could remove his spleen and check for cancer, but 95% of the time it is cancer. Plus, if successful, even that would only give us a small amount of time with him. We had to make the, beyond horrific, decision to euthanize him that day, on the spot. To say I was sick with grief would be an understatement! Then, four weeks later, Rosco, our other beautiful Aussie was diagnosed with the same thing, but his was a slow bleed. The doctor gave him days. A week later we had him euthanized at home when he quit eating and drinking. I held him and told him how much we loved him and what a good boy he was. Even typing this sends pangs of pain in my heart. It's so difficult!
Later, I found out that what they both had was a Hemangiosarcoma, a relative of blod cancer. (The Aussie down the street died aound the same time, of the same thing.) I still cry for my beautiful boys.
May came and with that, another blood test which found that my lymphocytes had elevated yet again. So another blood test followed by an appointment was set for November, this month.
After the devastation I felt with the election, which was a week ago today, I didn't think it could get any worse. But I read the results of my blood test last week, and my lymphocytes climbed once more. Even before I knew, I felt the fatigue getting worse.
People may read this and think that I need to cover myself in prayer, adorn myself in positive mantras, and just be grateful that I'm alive. Okay, fair enough. But with this string of negativity, I'm done trying. I'm old-ish! Of course I know that there are so many that have it a billion times worse than me. But I'm not comforted with any of that and I've become apathetic.
So, it's been a ridiculously shitty year that will spill into the next. I'll take it day by day.
What am I grateful for? Elliot! My sweet, sweet boy who I rescued from death row at the county shelter. And he truly seems grateful for me. His affection, his smile (yes, he lifts his little lip up and actually smiles whenever I come home after being gone) and his snuggles say over and over again that he loves me, and is grateful for me. How cool is that? So, there ya have it. If you've read this far without a lot of judgment or trying to fix me, a huge thank you for caring enough. Love to you. And here is my beautiful boy!
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