The past three days have been rough. On Wednesday, Peter hit his head at work on a cabinet door and had a headache all day. Thursday afternoon, he was taken from work to go to see a doctor due to increasing trouble thinking. I met him at the ER, where we learned that while he did have a concussion (which was very apparent to me, given his symptoms), but thankfully, no other serious concerns, like bleeding in the brain. However, after he was discharged from the ER, he was told definitely no work until Monday at the earliest, and he was instructed to “rest his brain” as much as possible. For those unfamiliar with traumatic brain injuries/concussion, this means that even reading, watching a movie, or texting is “work” and can seriously fatigue him.
By that time, I had already had my own trip to the oncologist Thursday morning to check out some suspiciously growing lymph nodes in my groin. That visit was not the most reassuring ever, with the not-my-usual-doc recommending not only an ultrasound for the groin, but also a bonus mammogram AND ultrasound for a little lump in my breast tissue that 2 other specialists have already seen. Whee!
On top of all that, Emmie came down with a cold Thursday morning with a terrible sounding cough. Thursday was flipping rough.
Thankfully, today was marginally better. Peter’s visit with the worker’s comp doctor informed us that he was not allowed to return back to work until Wednesday at the earliest (provided he is improving enough by then). He does seem to be improving some with rest, but still fatigues very, very quickly. Emmie was definitely feeling better and her cough was much, much improved, which was very good too.
On my health front, there was a snafu with the ultrasound order the doc originally entered, but I was able to get someone on the line to get it clarified, and was even able to get an appointment for it within the hour (WHAT!?! Awesomeness). There was an excellent misunderstanding, which had me drinking an unnecessary 32 oz. of water in 30 minutes, leaving me exceptionally uncomfortable until the tech instantly clarified and let me go pee. The procedure itself was unremarkable, except for the fact that it was way, way less fun than all my ultrasounds when I was pregnant. The tech couldn’t say anything (as per uzh), but she did say they all looked like lymph nodes, which I took to be a bad thing, of course. Thankfully, the order was put in as “stat,” so she said I would get my results by the end of the day (hooray for not having to wait over the weekend or longer!).
By the time I got home, Peter had had Emmie by himself for probably an hour and a half and I could see on his face he was absolutely done in. For reference, this is a man who flew with his two year old to Michigan completely by himself and spent 2 weeks with her there, so it’s not like he’s not used to caring for his child. I haven’t even flown with her by myself yet! After I got home, he immediately went right back to bed. It was just too much. I hadn’t meant for him to have to watch her as long as he did, but Emmie didn’t nap as long as expected, so there it was. Poor Peter.
I was in the midst of cooking dinner when I got the call with the relatively good news that the lymph nodes did NOT show any signs of cancer. We still don’t know why they have been getting bigger, but hopefully it’s just me fighting off Emmie’s cold.
I had been so overwhelmed with just surviving the day, with all its doctors appointments, medically-related phone calls and keeping all members of the family alive that I didn’t have time to process the news until we sat down to dinner. I broke down in tears, partly in relief, but mostly just from the break in the anxiety and worry I’ve been carrying for Peter and me both these past few days.
I was so deeply reminded of a similar feeling I had when I was having my big surgery in 2011. I had just been discharged from ICU, but was still in the hospital, and we found out my brother had broken his collarbone and both wrists, halfway across the country, with me hogging both parents. I had that same sense of triage and trying to manage resources, except that this time, my only resource was just me. I was also powerfully reminded of how grateful I was that Emmie was still in utero for most of the cancer stuff. It was incredibly easy to take care of her then, no matter how sick I was. This time, not only did I have to consider Emmie’s care in my planning, but I also had to think about her awareness of my emotions, especially when I was thinking about the possibility of NOT getting good news.
Being an adult sure is rough sometimes.
Neither Peter nor I are out of the woods yet, but as long as we both keep improving, I think things should be just fine again. Please God, let them be fine.