beatingcowdens

Every Day is a Great Adventure!

Published on September 9, 2012September 10, 2012 by beatingcowdens2 Comments

Ever feel like you lived a few days all at once? Yep. Today would be one of those days. From the physical to the emotional – I am shot. And it is only the BEGINNING of the week!

We walked today, my mom, my friend and I. When Mom picked me up this morning we were both a little grumpy. then we both cried a little. It just seemed wrong heading out without Meghan. But I took some solace in the fact that when I kissed her at 6:30 AM her skin was blessedly cool to the touch. Maybe it was over.

So we picked up our friend, and determined to enjoy the sunshine, we were in central Park a few minutes after 7. Professionals by now, we do all of our shopping, and gathering of “free stuff,” then we walk it to the car so we can race pretty much unencumbered. And Meghan, for having not been there, made out quite well in a wide array of paid items and “free stuff.” Well deserved!

Manhattan was crowded as ever, but thanks to my aggressive little Mom we were up close to the front when the race began. We moved aside to allow for the runners and then had a really enjoyable walk without the tight crowds we sometimes experience. We got to chat and walk, and enjoy each other and the sunshine.

RFTC2 — Holding the banners Meghan made for us

At the finish line. Aren’t we pretty in pink? 🙂

So after a fun and exhausting morning we headed home. Meghan was so thrilled that we hadn’t forgotten about her. I was less than thrilled to see her on the couch, a clear indicator that the fever returned.

So, just like that came the transformation from walker to Mom. We started making plans for who would watch her Monday. She reminded us about her friend, and ours, a neighbor who loves her like she is her own. Meghan said, “Just ask Patty!” So I did. Patty will be here at 7:15.
Thinking it was all taken care of, we sent Meghan for a nap. Restless a few minutes later, the thermometer revealed a scary 104.2. Knowing what he would say, I had to call the pediatrician anyway. That number is too high for me. So, he happened to be in his office and invited us to come in. (I adore my pediatrician.)

He spent a few minutes sizing her up. The Tylenol was starting to work and she was down to 103.7. After an agonizing 20 minutes he sent us for blood work at a local ER. I am not a big fan of the local hospitals, but thought perhaps a brief visit MIGHT be ok. Not so much.

In the literally blood spattered walls of a tiny room with no access to TV or cell phone, we sat while they took 2 blood cultures and a CBC. She admitted at 4 PM with a fever of 102.9. They gave her a dose of Motrin. We waited for the blood for almost 2 hours. As I grew anxious they told me they were having trouble finding it. Almost ready to leave, it turned up – with a terribly low white blood cell count, but nothing else noteworthy. We left quickly, being discharged at 6:30 with 99.4, having learned/remembered 2 things.

1. It is not OK – even for a short visit, and

2. Motrin – Motrin – Motrin

We had a hard time deciding who got to shower first as we cleaned off the filth we had just been in. Dinner, some TV, WINE(for me – not her!), and it was off to bed. Fever free at 8:30.

Headed up now for the 11PM Clindamycin. Who knows what tomorrow will bring? Every day is a great adventure!

Race for the Cure (minus 1)

Published on September 8, 2012 by beatingcowdens6 Comments

survicor — It won’t be nearly as much fun without my biggest fan!

Tomorrow morning I will gather in Central Park with some 25,000 other runners and walkers, survivors, and friends and family to support the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure. This will be my first race in a pink “survivor” T shirt, insisted upon by Meghan, my biggest fan.

This was our year. I registered Meghan as a “real” walker. She got an official race day T shirt, and a number too. She was so proud to be walking with her Mom, and Grandma – two “survivors.” She was thrilled to be registered, and wear a number. She was looking forward to waking up super early.

Except, she won’t be coming.

At 6:30 tomorrow morning my Mom will pick me up. We will each wear a special banner designed by Meghan. We will pick up our friend, another survivor, and we will head to Central Park. The car will hold one less this year, and if I might say so myself,

I thought it all day. I thought it to myself. I even hid in my room and cried a little, ok a lot. I had quite the pity party going for my girl. Asking over and over WHEN she is going to get a break, and WHEN is something going to go her way, and WHY can’t she seem to just have some fun when her HEART and SOUL are ALWAYS looking out for other people. And, not to be surprised, she never said once all day that it wasn’t fair.

She encouraged me to go, even without her. She said she was sad, and disappointed, but we made a date for the American Cancer Society walk on Staten Island in October.

She is asleep on the couch right now with 102 fever. She woke up great this morning. By noon she was developing a fever. She was complaining of a headache. By 2 PM she had cleared 102 and we headed out to the urgi center. After an OBNOXIOUS 3 hour wait, we left with the diagnosis of (“It’s probably”) strep, and (maybe) and ear infection. I sometimes wonder if they train to be meteorologists, and end up as doctors – probably…maybe… UGH!

He second dose of Clindamycin will be at 11PM. By noon tomorrow we will know if it was bacterial or viral because she should feel much better, and the headache – that always scares the CRAP out of me, should be gone.

By noon tomorrow I will be home. Back from my race. Full of conflicted emotions. I have been to this race almost every year since 1998, but Meghan kept calling it my “first” race. I will be glad to be with my mom and my friend, but really, what good is any race or celebration without your biggest fan?

Serenade

Published on September 7, 2012 by beatingcowdens3 Comments

I am sitting in the basement on the computer trying desperately to ignore the cricket serenading me from some other corner of the room. My family has been asleep for hours. Silently I have struck a deal with this insect, that if he stays far from me, I won’t try to squish him.

Not a big bug fan, and since a quick google search shows me a photo of one of his distant cousins, I have strengthened my resolve not to meet the cricket tonight. I don’t mind bugs, when they live outside where they belong. I just don’t like them taking residence in my house!

So, he continues to sing, as I put 4 stamps on the CD of the sonograms of my abdomen from April and last Novemeber. I included the reports and a cover letter to the oncologist. Off they will go tomorrow, and hopefully they will safely arrive. See I am really and truly ready to hear the definitive word that the spleen stays. One more week…

Week – what a week it was. I swear I am still sore from the boxes earlier in the week. A true sign that I lost a lot of strength post operatively. But, I am moved in. And, after 2 hours on a Friday afternoon after the students, and most of the teachers had left – I am largely set up. Finally!

Meghan loved her 4th grade teacher, even if it isn’t the one she originally wanted. This one has all the skill, kindness and compassion of the other. It will be a great year for her – academically.

Still so many medical questions unanswered. I am so intrigued as to how a pituitary that is over working can be too small. I am even more intrigued that this keeps only me, and apparently the cricket, up at night.

Answers. I need answers instead of more questions. But I fear it just isn’t to be. So, I will head to bed before I am forced to meet the insect that has been singing my lullaby for the last 2 hours.

Stay tuned…

Published on September 5, 2012 by beatingcowdens2 Comments

I learned a few things as I set up my classroom this week. Many of them I will not say here, because Mom always says, “If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all!” Well at least that’s what she used to say when we were young… but I digress.

I have been without my own classroom for a few years now. I have been a traveling math cluster, and then last year shared a room with a colleague. This year I was given my own 3rd floor room. It is harder to have a room, but change is good – so I was ready and excited to try it out. And grateful for the opportunity.

See last spring my colleague and I were told we were to share the 3rd floor room. So, in the heat of June we brought everything we could (using LOTS of kids to help) up to that room. The rest of my personal belongings (from the first 10 years in the classroom) were stored in a nearby storage closet.

Sometime over the summer I got an Email that the schedule had changed. The third floor room would be mine alone, and the 1st floor room would belong to my colleague. So I set about the business of buying all the things you need for a room.

I brought my things in on August 22nd, but I couldn’t stay to set up. Meghan had an appointment. As a matter of fact I couldn’t come in the next day either because of two of my appointments -so I first got in to get settled yesterday.

Much to my surprise, the storage closet where all my personal things were had a new lock. I didn’t have a key so I took that as my clue to vacate.

Now, prior to the Mastectomy, I was pretty strong. I helped my husband renovate the house. I know how to move heavy things. Prior to the hysterectomy and the mastectomy – just a few short months apart, and just 6 months ago… I felt like this.

Now, after moving boxes for 3 hours yesterday. up and down the stairs, even with the help of a few well intentioned friends, I feel more like this.

I am sore in places I had no idea it was OK to be sore. This was either an eye opener to my age, my body’s fatigue, or the fact that it is time for some serious exercise.

But, after 2 days my classroom went from this:

To a lot closer to this:

Which is a good thing, because I just don’t do clutter well at all.

So when I left a little more relaxed it was time to get a confusing phone call from the doctor.

Meghan’s blood panel appears normal, but I have to compare the thyroid numbers off the last one when I see it. That was OK, and then he said the MRI had an “ODD” finding – shocker!

The “anterior pituitary tissue is seen though it is diminutive in size for age.”

Still actively trying to figure out what that means, especially because we were scanning for a pituitary tumor to try to find the cause of the early puberty. Now, clearly the pituitary is TOO SMALL? Really? I just can’t figure this out.

Grateful there is no tumor, I asked the doctor if it was insignificant. To which he replied, “Everything means something. I have never seen this before but I will be asking a lot of questions.”

So, fourth grade for my big girl tomorrow. One day at a time, this is all we can do…

Random Reflections – nothing profound today!

Published on September 2, 2012 by beatingcowdens3 Comments

We tried another church today. This time all three of us went. A little different than what we are used to, or I should say WERE used to – but it holds some promise nonetheless. Before we had even left we had been given a tour of the facility by the pastor, and Meghan was invited to a free music class Thursday afternoon.

God has a plan. And while we did not head all the way to Norway where Wikipedia tells me this picture is from, we were away from “home.” I am working to keep my eyes open and focused because to be quite honest some days God flat out confuses me. So we will see. At least we worshipped together as a family – for the first time in months!

It was gray and overcast a lot of the day. Glad we got in a swim yesterday. It may have been the last one. We would close the pool tomorrow, but we need to call a man about some air bubbles in the liner. Hoping its nothing too serious.

We got to spend the afternoon with my grandparents and my parents. Last minute plans are always a treat when we get to be with family. Pop was 93 last week. Grandma will be 92 in 2 weeks. GGMa is not quite up there, but it is still always a reminder of how fortunate I truly am to see my grandparents interacting with my daughter.

The oncologist’s nurse called me Friday. She wants a copy of an old abdominal sonogram on CD so they can sort out the spleen, and why it seems to suddenly be growing so many things. I told her it was going to take me a bit of time to get it because it was 4:40 on the Friday before a holiday weekend. She told me I could get it Tuesday. I chuckled.

No matter how hard I try… “I plan, God laughs.”

I explained to her that after 9 and a half weeks of summer vacation, I return to work Tuesday. I will not physically be able to have the CD burned until Friday. They will get it in about a week and a half. At which point she nicely reminded me that it could be serious. To which I replied quite simply, “No it can’t, because I don’t have time.”

She was appalled I think. But, what I meant was, I have undergone 2 major surgeries in the last 6 months. I have a colonoscopy scheduled for one of the days off this month, and an orthodontic visit with Meghan on the next one. Unless you can prove to me my spleen is about to explode or damage some other remaining internal organ – HANDS OFF!

I am about done with all these doctors!

So as much as I did my best to plan to keep next week, the first days of school, free and empty of things to do – the yellow pad next to me gets more full by the minute.

I will at some point get that CD. I will get the results of Meghan’s blood test and MRI. I will call Meghan’s school and sort out the busing mess that is developing for the first day of school. I will get the pool guy to show up when someone is home and tell me if I need to fix the pool before it can be closed. I will get Meghan to swim class, the orthodontist, and that new music class, and to Physical Therapy too.

I will get back to work. We will get back to homework, and a schedule that hopefully involves more kids and less doctors.

There will be stress, and tears, and nervous stomachs, and excitement.

And for Mommy – there will also be wine. LOTS of wine!

Although I must admit sometimes it’s nice to reflect with a few “normal” worries mixed in!

One of a kind…

Published on August 31, 2012 by beatingcowdens9 Comments

It probably started in the spring. Meghan’s class had been working on a fundraiser for Alex’s Lemonade Stand. (alexslemonade.org) The entire third grade was raising money for childhood cancer, and she took her fundraising work very seriously.

Meghan decided to make a bookmark, with a picture of my cousin Meghan – Angel Meghan as we speak of her – who died from Leukemia in 1991. She wanted to make her connection to the fundraising personal. As we prepared baskets of bookmarks to leave with people we knew, Meghan decided we should sell ribbons too.

So, I asked her what color? She wasn’t sure what I meant, but I really didn’t know if there was a color ribbon for childhood cancer. So, she took out her iPad and a quick search found us gold. The gold ribbon was the color for childhood cancer.

So we headed to Michael’s and bought up as much gold ribbon as we could find. We bought lots of safety pins. We set to work cutting and pinning.

We dropped baskets off with my Uncle Chris and cousin Katie (“Angel Meghan’s” Dad and sister.) They were eager to help, and passed baskets off to friends of theirs. Before we knew it we were making more ribbons, and more bookmarks.

Meghan was so absolutely thrilled to raise over $500 for the project. It was such a huge success and we were so proud.

That project raised her awareness of her ability to do for others, and helped her confidence so much. It also made her aware, acutely aware, of cause ribbons. She would identify the ones she knew, like the pink ribbon for breast cancer, and she would look up ones she didn’t know. She learned about the puzzle piece for autism, and even yellow ribbons being used when soldiers are away from home. I think that is the project that truly got her using a search engine too. (Thanks Mrs. Azzarello!)

It seemed only natural, that months later, having watched me receive pink ribbons after my breast cancer surgery, and after countless surgeries and appointments of her own, that she would ask what “our” ribbon was. Not sure of course exactly what she meant, I had her clarify. “What is the ribbon for genetic diseases?”

So back to the search engines we went. We tried a few other places. but eventually decided that this was the one.

It made sense. The Global Genes Project had a logo that reflected her cause. This was the ribbon for Rare Diseases – genetic disorders like our Cowden’s Syndrome. It Made sense, their saying, “Hope – It’s in our genes” was catchy enough, and it left you thinking about the connection between genes, and jeans – the denim ribbon.

The next question should have had a simple answer – but it didn’t. She said, “Can I have one?”

Once she clarified that she needed something, something to represent her, and all she has gone through, I understood. She needed a symbol, something to wear that would make it easier to talk to people, that would help her feel proud, and strong, like it all mattered.

Sure, I thought. We will get you something.

Well I looked, and I looked, and I looked. There was nothing. Beyond the sticker I had gotten as a thank you when I sent a contribution to The Global Genes Project, I could find NOTHING for her to own or wear, no jewelry or clothes with this “denim” ribbon.

Well sometimes the best ideas are born out of lunchtime conversation. So, as I sat with some teacher friends the next day, I recanted Meghan’s desire to have her own cause ribbon. One friend, the pure hearted Mom of an autistic son, who was wearing a beautiful diamond puzzle piece around her neck, “got it” on so many levels. And, her husband happens to be a jeweler.

She said, “give me what you have, let’s see what we can do.”

Well I think we all thought it would be easier than it was. But after weeks of searching her husband determined that there was nothing, anywhere like what we were looking for. If we wanted it, we could have it, but they would have to make the mold.

Fortunate to have good and generous people in our lives, we paid only for the cost of the creation of the piece. My friends husband generously donated his time, because he too “gets it.” Their goal was only to make my girl happy. And for that I am so grateful.

After anxious months of waiting, the piece arrived last Friday. She treats it like a rare gem.

It is RARE, a one of a kind beauty – just like my girl. But, never staying focused on herself for too long, she thought – wouldn’t it be nice if we could do a fundraiser, and sell these so that we could raise money for The Global Genes Project?

Well, last Friday we sent them an Email with several pictures. It is a crazy time of year, but we are anxious to hear from them, and hoping that Meghan’s idea, can benefit many others. It would be fitting. That’s just the kind of kid she is.

Meg necklace — For now though, the necklace is “one of a kind,” just like her!

Bookends

Published on August 31, 2012 by beatingcowdens1 Comment

So my little girl took some of the influence of her Dad and has taken a liking to comic books. She has been reading them on her Ipad, and although I might not admit it to either one of them, I kind of like the idea. I like Superheroes, and their “Good beats evil” message. I know it doesn’t always work out that way, but she is 9…

I sat in the MRI room with Meghan tonight – again. And even though it is a wonder I could think of anything over the banging of the machine, and the remnants of this migraine I have been fighting for days, I kept thinking of bookends.

Yep, bookends. See, back in June, on the first day after school was out for the summer we went for an MRI of her knee. It was a Thursday, the Thursday before July 4th. So, how ironic I thought, when earlier I was sitting in another MRI, this one of her brain, on the Thursday before Labor Day.

Bookends. Our summer ends the way it began, waiting for test results. Although I am starting to get the feeling that this testing and waiting will transcend all seasons. I will just notice it more in the summer – the season where I have one full time job (Mom to Meghan,) rather than two (Mom to Meghan AND teacher.)

And I am reminded of the image of the dog digging up the street that Meghan found for me a few weeks ago. This is what we do.

We do not accept anything less than an answer that makes Mommy comfortable. When the doctors tell me that puberty is just starting earlier these days, I buy it – to a point. When they tell me to consider all the hormones in the milk, and the chicken, I raise an eyebrow. My girl who has been dairy free since she was 15 months old, and has almost never consumed a piece of nonorganic chicken, who is at or below the weight for her height, and who has a mom who went through puberty LATE, should be one of the early ones… I just don’t buy it. So when the hormone tests don’t match, and I get doctors refusing to answer me, I push harder. That is what the MRI was today. My fault. I needed to have them rule out a pituitary tumor. We have Cowden’s Syndrome. We grow things. Someone should check. Just sayin… Then, when the results are clean in a few days I will breathe deeply and accept that this just IS.

And the recurrent strep… well lo and behold, the ENT said there is regrowth of the tonsil tissue. He wants to see her the next time she has strep. He shouldn’t have to wait too long. He also told me the right lobe of her thyroid was quite enlarged.

So we wait for the thyroid panel, and wonder if it has changed drastically. And, we think of those nodules on her thyroid and the doctor who told me they will turn… not if – but when.

Bookends.

We started the summer at the doctor. We spent most of the summer at the doctor. Scan this, check that. It will never happen like this again if I can control it, but it was necessary this time.

And in between the bookends of MRIs, we fit in some fun stuff. There were some great play dates. a day trip to the beach, some swims in the pool. a FABULOUS trip to Disney, a week of Vacation Bible School – (although not our “favorite”one.) There were some lazy days, and lots of just being together time. We can get a lot of talking in on all those trips to the doctor.

I guess the summer wasn’t a total loss, and yet still somehow I feel sad. Cheated. I stress at the thought of the scheduling complications being back at work brings. Holding up the appointments of a regular kid (eyes, orthodontist, swim class, PT, dance…) is tough enough. Complicate it with Cowden’s x2 and it gets hairy.

Maybe I feel like this every summer. Maybe I just love my girl too much. Time marches on. School next week ready or not!

“The Velveteen Rabbit”

Published on August 28, 2012August 28, 2012 by beatingcowdens6 Comments

velveteen rabbbit 1 — by Margery Williams

“Real isn’t how you are made,” said the Skin Horse. “It’s a thing that happens to you….

…”It doesn’t happen all at once,” said the Skin Horse. “You become. It takes a long time. That’s why it doesn’t happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept.” Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off. and your eyes drop out, and you get loose in the joints, and very shabby. But all those things don’t matter at all because once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand…”

I spoke to the oncologist today, about my MRI. She had really no better or clearer information than the nurse I spoke to Friday. The harmatomas are large. There are several. They might be able to stay, they might not. She requested the sonogram from April to see if it is worth a comparison. I will get the CD and the reports and send them along. I will let the doctors again analyze the same few articles on Cowden’s Syndrome that exist. I won’t tell them that I have likely read all of them myself too. I will let them tell me if the spleen stays or goes.

I think it is that conversation, combined with the one I had with Meghan that brought the story of The Velveteen Rabbit to my mind tonight. As we are buying clothes for school and trying to keep her quickly developing body comfortable and appropriate, she asks about my scars. There are quite a few, the lipoma in my neck, the partial thyroidectomy, the C-Section, the hysterectomy, but she focuses on the mastectomy. and the scars from the reconstruction. She asks sometimes to see them even as they are covered. She asks if she will get to decide when to have that surgery. “IF” I stress, “IF!” You don’t know… But she knows. She is preparing already for the day it is her turn. It twists my stomach in a knot.

We have had between us more than 25 surgeries, large and small. We have scars of all sizes – inside and out. But we are “Real.” In a deep, important sense, we are “real” to each other.

I am in limbo… waiting. But it is ok. I live in a house where I have become “real.” And, even on my darkest days, “…once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.”

“It’s not fair!”

Published on August 27, 2012August 27, 2012 by beatingcowdens1 Comment

“It’s NOT fair Daddy!” Came the screech from the basement. I held my breath.

“You can’t do that Daddy! It’s NOT fair!”

When I heard my husband return the challenge with an “Oh yeah? Watch this!” I knew all was well. The giggling that followed sealed the deal.

I couldn’t help but find it a bit ironic that of all the things that have gone on in her life, she chooses a helicopter game in the basement with her Dad, to shout the words,”IT’S NOT FAIR!”

She didn’t use those words once, all summer, when we spent what I equate to an OBSCENE amount of hours in doctor’s offices and waiting rooms. She didn’t utter those words as she was poked and prodded and asked the same questions over and over. “They never find the answers anyway, Mommy.”

She didn’t tell me it wasn’t fair, when instead of planning playdates, or camp experiences we were trekking back and forth to Manhattan, for her, or for me. She simply wiggled in the play time when there was room.

This morning, when I sprung on her the idea that she needed bloodwork, after the bank, and before the orthodontist, she could have EASILY told me. “It’s not fair!” And I would have understood. I know very few people who have given up more blood than she has. And when the lab was full, and we had to come back later, so she could think about it all day, she definitely could have told me, “It’s not fair!” But she didn’t.

This morning when we learned that her braces are imminent, and that she is going to need to contend with them in addition to her new grade and ever changing body – I expected a yell. Nope. “Won’t it be great to have them off before most of my friends even get theirs on?”

So as I scheduled one more MRI this week. This one for her, to make sure the pituitary is its proper size with no extra features… I thought it would be a big foot stamping, “It’s not fair!” Nothing. Just the typical, “Can you stay, and will I need a needle?” Followed by, “I hope I can watch a movie this time because I don’t like having my head done.” How disturbing that this will be her third brain MRI.

This has been one hell of a summer, following one seriously wild spring. I have lost count of the appointments, and it is probably better. They aren’t going anywhere and we will continue to have to roll with it. As the last week of summer vacation comes to a close, and I lament the lack of relaxation, the cleaning that never happened, the day trips that never came to pass, I want to shout, “IT”S NOT FAIR!”

But then I look at my 9 year old. Wise beyond her years. Content to live in this house where she is so loved and appreciated. We have had many talks about the suffering of others through the years, and especially this year. She knows she is not alone in having a tough path to travel. She also knows it could be worse.

Maybe that contributes to the poise and grace under pressure. Maybe that is why she is so insanely mature. Or maybe, in the midst of the chaos that is Cowden’s Syndrome, we – her father and I – are just the luckiest parents in the world.

Life's not fair — But God is good – all the time!

“I plan, God laughs.”

Published on August 24, 2012 by beatingcowdens1 Comment

My Mom says this… a lot. And she is usually right. I am a planner by nature. Mom, although sometimes reluctant to admit it, is a planner too. The difference is that the wisdom of her years have helped her tone down the level of planning so it is a bit less obvious, and she has also – wisely- learned to keep many of the plans she does make – to herself.

I like to organize everything, and quite simply put – Cowden’s Syndrome is chaos. At least right now.

I mean eventually maybe it will fall into a neat little schedule of screenings, and routine visits, but right now – not so much. If you saw the legal size yellow pad on my desk you would chuckle. I have appointments planned until February of 2013. And, at first glance to list doesn’t look too bad. I was proud. I got to these appointments early. They are all routine. They will all happen after school or on vacation days. My terms. But then we get to the unscheduled ones… and the follow ups… and the new visits. That’s when things start getting hairy.

I called the oncologist‘s office today to get the results of my MRI. The oncologist is away until Tuesday, but a very kind nurse called me back in about an hour. She said, “Everything is benign.” I wasn’t sure to be relived, or panicked. What “everything?” So she started with telling me my liver is just fine. (Well thank goodness, because I hadn’t even THOUGHT to worry about my liver.) She then proceeded to tell me there was a “small cyst” on my kidney, but that was probably no big deal. (And probably not a worry unless you live in a subgroup of people that have a 33% lifetime incidence of renal cell carcinoma.) She continued by telling me my spleen was “a bit more involved.” Hmmm… never have those words started a positive conversation.

The last two times I have had abdominal sonograms, both have very matter of factly stated that there is one 3.5 cm harmatoma on my spleen. Ok, I had decided all by myself… if it stays 3.5 cm and behaves, we will just leave it there.

Well, apparently there is a “vascular lesion” that is a “significant” size, and “several” small harmatomas on the spleen.

So I said, “what does this all mean?” That is when she said we would have to wait until the oncologist returned to determine the necessary next steps.

“Can I have a copy of the report?”

“I would rather not send it to you until you speak to the doctor. I just wanted to reassure you there were no malignancies. She may want you to come in.”

Which is where I did laugh out loud. Come in – to hear a summary of what I was just told? No thanks. Just tell me what I need to do next and I will get it done.

I looked at my nice yellow pad, where September previously had no appointments, and I see the colonoscopy written in for the 18th.

I have to say I was pretty sure 2 major surgeries for me, meant I was done for the year. There goes that planning again. Maybe I will keep my spleen and its harmatomas forever. Maybe they will make me have it out. Truth is I have no idea. And I can’t plan for it at all.

School starts in a week or so. My life apparently doesn’t always jive with the school calendar. I will have to roll with it.

More importantly, Pop’s birthday is tomorrow. He is 93, and a true inspiration. My family will gather at my house to celebrate him. I couldn’t be more excited.

all-about-me — I really think I am OK with this concept, but we all need a reminder sometimes!

I will get my results Tuesday, and life will go on. It will all work itself out, as it has for… well forever. I will try to keep the planning in check. I really do try.

The only thing I am planning tonight is how many chairs I need for Pop’s birthday celebration!