If You Think That Hurts, Wait Til Tomorrow

On Monday morning, I began writing the above blog post, whining about how terrible my weekend had been.  I paused after a few paragraphs because I had to run to an appointment--my oncologist had ordered a Pulmonary Function (lung) test and Echo (heart ultrasound) to make sure that my organs were strong enough to endure the impending chemo.

I never got a chance to finish the post, or to mention that in addition to the pain I was experiencing from the blood clot, I was having very hard time breathing that weekend.  Truth be told, I had phoned the cancer center on Sunday, asking the after hours on-call doctor if I would survive until chemo began on Wednesday.  The doctor had assured me I would be all right, and could soon look forward to relief from swelling once the chemo began to shrink my lymph nodes.

Flash forward to Monday afternoon:  I had just arrived back home from my heart and lung tests and I was completely worn out.  I eagerly peeled off my jeans and shuffled to the couch, collapsing into the pillows.  The phone rang and it was Dr. Jeffreys, my oncologist. The cardiologist had just called her back with the results of my Echo.  It had revealed that I had a great deal of fluid around my heart, constricting the organ.  I would need to go to the ER immediately to have the fluid drained.  I gazed blankly at pattern on my pajama pants which I had just been so relieved to change into.  "Are they going to cut me open?" I squeaked at Dr. Jeffreys.  She paused, and I knew the answer.