How to Get Into a Hospital

Well, as you might imagine, time goes on. By Tuesday, I have been diagnosed with a large B-cell form of Non-Hodgkins lymphoma, and have been ordered to the Emory-Decatur branch of the hospital. My very cool oncologist, Dr. Lechowicz takes one look at me and the fact that the left side of my face it turning blue (And who wants to be Florida or Auburn-colored anyway?) and orders me into the hospital that afternoon.

I do not take this very well. I do not like hospitals and I’m pretty sure I started crying.

I haven’t been crying much through this whole process. I’m afraid if I start I won’t stop, and to that point, I still haven’t had a good cry. I’ll probably wait til after I get the results from my bone marrow biopsy. I keep saying I’ll wait til after some landmark.

As such, I’ve been in the hospital since Wednesday afternoon. I’ve had a CT Scan, a PET scan, and ECHO (revealing fluid around my heart), all sorts of machines hooked up to me, been told I can’t have flowers or anything alive, and a bone marrow biopsy.

I started preliminary chemo therapy Thursday and I have to wear compression socks that make me feel like I’m dressed like one of the Founding Fathers.

The rumors are true. Chemo sucks. It makes one skin dry, bloated, and I have no appetite. I’m on a cocktail of drugs that would make weekend recreational users jealous, but they make be both exhausted and unable to sleep.

On the upside, I keep getting pudding.

Bone marrow biopsy results should be back by Tuesday, and we should get results about whether things have spread to my bone marrow and what stage my lymphoma is in.

The nurses have encouraged me to make my room my own, so we’re working on decorations, and I have named my IV drip Harvey after the rabbit in the Jimmy Stewart movie. Mom is making him some ears.