“Have you seen it, yet?” inquired Dr. Mason.
“No. Should I?” I responded.
“Well, it is rather interesting. It’s about 2 cm and just below the surface of the skin.”
“Can you just cut it right out?” I asked, hoping he’d say sure!
“No. We can’t do that.”
One needle poke later and three snip, snips later, the biopsy was complete. It was quite painless, actually. I was relieved. My liver biopsy had not been a cake walk. It was deep and the freezing didn’t seem to take. Add on the fact that it was difficult to breathe, and you have a miserable experience. A biopsy on my lymph node was not a problem at all.
I think it was the comment about the tumor size that made me breathe a sigh of relief. I had to shrink my other liver tumors last time to 4 cm before even considering the possibility of surgery. This tumor – was only 2 cm. A cake walk. I think this today was the first time I had actually believed I was going to be okay, that the tumor would shrink to nothing. It seemed possible.
One wonders, at this point, why one is so fortunate? At least – to date. I have good health other than the fact that I am diseased. I have hope that new medication may prolong my periods of remission. I take no medication for heart, liver, kidney, or breathing. I don’t think the nurses quite believe me when I say to them that I have had a lot of pieces cut out of me. I listed them off today and it seemed to draw a bit of a crowd. Then, the comment, “you look great”. I liked that – whether it was the truth or not – didn’t matter. Hearing a nurse tell you how well you look makes a difference.
My friend Vandie took me today. She too made friends with the nurses and joked around. She told them about her trip to Gross Mountain – and how I was supposed to have gone with her. Again – they were impressed. Again – it felt good to impress the nurses.
I am mid-way between chemos one and two right now. I am enjoying every day. I feel wonderful. I am blessed. I worked hard this past week and it felt good.
I am tired tonight. Didn’t sleep well last night worrying about the biopsy. No matter how much I try to pretend it was nothing – my body tells me otherwise.
So – I go to bed, having been there, done it, and having seen it. Another hurdle behind me.