On the last leg of our latest trip to Oletha, my mind wandered back to the events of the week. But the details faded into the background as I took in the scene before me. The sun had just dipped below the horizon, burning the sky with a deep red-orange glow fading upward to dusky twilight blue with the slightest sliver fingernail moon already low in the western sky. Is there anything other than this moment?
The good doctor has reminded me at the end of each visit to call the office if anything ever changed. Fever, chills, swollen lymph glands…. Nothing had…until last Wednesday evening.
I was still tired from the Light the Night walk so Mother and Mac had come to our house for dinner and cards. I made the best slow-cooker roast ever, and Mac and I had walked away with that week’s card game. As I was getting ready for bed, I noticed swollen, painful lymph glands under my left arm. It seemed unusual for it to have appeared so suddenly. Just six days prior, the good doctor had checked my glands and found nothing unusual. We crawled into bed a bit concerned.
The next morning, I phoned the doctor’s office to inform them of the change. After speaking with the good doctor, his nurse scheduled an ultrasound for Friday and a follow-up appointment for the next Monday morning. I planned on going to the ultrasound on my own. Paul has already missed work for the other appointments and I didn’t think this would be a big deal. But my sweetheart was home by noon to get me to my 1 o’clock appointment. How does he always know when I’m going to need him?
Sometimes the staff allows Paul back for my tests. Other times they don’t. This was one of those times. I prepared for the simple test but could quickly tell that the ultrasound technician saw more than she expected. She asked me to wait while she went to consult with the radiologist. This was not normal procedure. She came back in and asked me to get dressed and go wait with my husband. The doctor came out shortly and visited with us about what he saw. We didn’t really understand much except that the lymph node was about 2.5 cm and that there were some other “abnormal” nodes. He had a call placed to my doctor and was suggesting a needle biopsy.
We were more than a little shaken. Swollen lymph glands were an expected progression. But when a doctor uses the words “abnormal” and “needle biopsy” on someone who already has cancer, it can be quite disconcerting. So we headed around the corner to the good doctor’s office and spoke with the nurse to let her know of the latest development so she could expedite the information. “I’d like to tell you to have a good weekend, but I know you probably won’t. Try not to worry. We’ll see you Monday and get the biopsy ordered.”
So we continued with our plans, picked up a few groceries, the youngest from school, and headed north. How many more times will we get to do this before the treatments start? Will I be able or allowed to make this trip once it does?
After we unpack and join our friends on the deck to share thoughts and a glass of wine, I watch as the burnt orange fades to ink blue, dotted with thousands of stars. The cool, clear night releases what the summer’s heat hides.
The wine and the World Series both come to an end, and we call it another day. I love it here. But honestly, I love wherever we are. I pray that Monday brings answers. Answers that bring countless more sunsets, ball games, and glasses of wine shared with the ones I love.
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