Ladies and gentlemen, welcome. I’ll be your tour guide for today. My name is Frank. Your usual tour guide called in sick and took the day off. Show of hands: who thinks she’s faking? Anybody? Really? I’m the only one. Hmmm.
Tina was scheduled for a surgical biopsy today. The plan was to attempt to excise a little bit of Larry by way of laparoscopic biopsy. Tina tells me that’s a big word for a camera that goes through your bellybutton. Should the surgeon not be able to excise a big enough sample safely with a scope, he’d make a larger incision and have at it. With his bare hands. Massive hands. Hands that could choke a bear. I’ve never seen that happen but that’s what my sleep deprived brain is farting out right now. Sorry, Doc.
The good news is that the laparoscopy went smoothly. No need for larger incisions, incisions that would have added two to three days to Tina’s recovery. If everything goes according to plan, I’ll drop Stella off at the babysitter first thing in the morning and I’ll pick Tina up in time for an early appointment with the oncology specialist. Even though today’s biopsy results won’t be available for review for another week to ten days, we do have something to look forward to tomorrow morning: bone marrow biopsy and PET scan results. Speaking for myself, I’m pretty excited by this. It finally feels like we’re getting something back, something solid and concrete, from Tina’s health team. This is by no means a knock on their diligence and efforts. Far from it. It’s just that up until now, Tina’s had to go through multiple tests, each separated with seemingly monstrous periods of waiting around. Now it’s time for some results. We know what we’re dealing with. That’s been a known fact to us for quite a while. What’s unknown is the next step. With these results, we’ll finally be able to have a better idea of what treatment regimen Tina will have and that inches us closer to getting better.
This next paragraph is not for the faint of heart. It’s me. Being mushy. Everybody look away, there’s really nothing to read here:
Seeing my wife with oxygen tubing up her nostrils, an IV pole hanging multiple narcotics and a glazed look in her eyes as she continuously drifts between chemical sleep and hazy wakefulness really sucks. It really freaking sucks. Trading places with her simply isn’t possible but every time I see her in pain, a little bit of me dies inside.
Cough. Okay. We all good now? Yeah, we’re good.
Once Tina feels a little bit more up to the task, I’m certain she’ll be back to typing away on the blog, keeping you up to date on how things go. I know I’ve enjoyed reading her posts because she’s been taking the time to formulate her words carefully. She’s examining exactly how she feels about herself, her family, her condition. By helping herself this way, she’s helping me too. The blog also surprised me. Not in the sense that I didn’t think Tina had any talent for it. Far from it. I was simply surprised. After five years, I never knew Tina had any interest in writing anything down. No diaries or journals, fiction or poetry. All of a sudden, she’s blogging and most importantly, she’s enjoying it. And you know what? I love that.
Keep ‘em coming, babe.