And then the sky fell

It wasn't as if I was shocked. The signs were all there. The pain was worse. I awakened a lot with pain in the wee hours of the morning and it was getting harder and harder to get it to go away. My energy, always flagging, was now almost non-existent. I was experiencing vertigo more often.

I knew that something was wrong.  

And all the labs reflected that. My tumor markers went from the high 100's to the low 400's. 

 After labs, I went to my oncology appointment and waited for over an hour to see the Dr. This never happens when all is okay. 

The doctor walked in the room. NOT the PA. 

She had sheaves of paper in her arms, her laptop. 

"How are you feeling?" 

I wanted to scream at her. I wanted to say, "I feel like motherfucking shit, Dr. Tell me the bad news." 

Instead, she caught my eyes, dropped her gaze and simply handed me the lab report. She knows that I am just as good at reading those lab reports as she is now. 

I quickly scanned them and felt my breath catch in my throat. The CA-15 markers were WAY up, after three months of steadily dropping. Still anemic. White blood cells, potassium, magnesium....way down. 

I sat chewing my lips, holding back tears. Aching not to be alone in this office. And then, I looked up. 

"So. What next?" 

She smiled wanly. "Well, I think that you should still get your faslodex and Xgeva shot and we need to schedule a whole body scan as soon as we can. After we get the results back, we can see what course we need to take next."

I nodded in agreement. Although, I know the answer. There IS no course to be taken. I am at the end of the road. She said that the nurse would be in to give me the shots soon. 

But it is never that easy. 

A few minutes later, the office manager came in with the news that my insurance would not agree to a whole body scan without a five day grace period for them to debate the procedure." 

This would've made me laugh, except for the fact that I am dying and not in the mood to laugh. Asked what this meant. 

Taylor, the office manager dresses very professionally, but talks like a teenager. I find this maddening. 

"Well. Um. We wait. We schedule the scan for Wednesday. That will be five days and we know they will say okay. If we schedule it for tomorrow, etc. there is always the chance that they will say no and then you will have had to sign a waiver saying that you will pay for the procedure if they won't....."

 I fucking hate insurance companies. So, wearily....we scheduled the scan for Wednesday with a follow up appointment that afternoon because my oncologist takes more vacation days than Trump. She would be gone the following Thursday, Friday, and Monday. 


"But, wait...," I said...."My results won't come back THAT quickly. They always take at least two or three days." 

Taylor shrugged. "We'll put an emergency rush on them," she said. 


I have a crazy feeling that this won't work, but agreed to it anyway. I waited for the nurses to come back in with my shots. Instead, the doctor came in and shut the door behind her. Great. More bad news. 

"Mrs. L, I think you should make an appointment to see Dr. G, too." she said. I gave her a look that I know was filled with terror. 

Dr. G was my leukemia oncologist. 

She swallowed and went on. "It's just that your white blood cell counts are so up and down. He's a hematologist and I would like his opinion on that." 

I looked her straight in the eye because this is my greatest nightmare. 

"Are you concerned that my leukemia is coming back?"

Again, she avoided my eyes. Said that she was wasn't all that concerned, but that she wanted to look at all possibilities. Fighting back tears, I agreed. A few moments later, the scheduling nurse was back in. 

"Well, I tried to get you in as soon as possible with Dr. G," she said. "But, since you haven't seen him in over a year, you are considered a new patient again. The earliest that you can be seen is March 11th. Well, unless you start having serious symptoms like fainting, seizures, etc." 

Great. Let's just hope I don't start fainting. 

So....scans on Wednesday, followed by a doctor's appointment. Where I will probably sit all day waiting for results. Sounds like fun to me! 

I walked slowly past the infusion room as I left the building. Ray was in there. He raised his hand to show that a seat was available next to him. I shook my head. Held up my lap reports. He put down his hand, waved goodbye. He got it. 

Then, finally sitting in my car, I put my head on the steering wheel and cried. And cried. And cried. I had come in for labs at 7:30. It was now nearly 1:30. 

Bad news all around. I looked out the window at the gray sky. 

"Are you ready to fall yet?"

Apparently not. Bad news comes, but still the world keeps rolling around. With or without me. 

These days, I sometimes feel as if I am ready for it to be without me. 

And yet, I haven't dropped that sword. What the hell is wrong with me? Will I never know how to quit?

And the beat goes on.