Pat's Story, and it continues

The first appointment with the oncologist (I now refuse to refer to him as a hematologist because I just know we are dealing with cancer) is quite daunting. We walked into an extremely busy waiting room. Almost all the chairs were taken and there was a large TV on the wall that was entirely too loud. I glanced quickly around the room and noticed mostly middle-aged to elderly people. We most definitely were the youngest people in the room and it was apparent that I wasn't the only one who noticed. It felt like people were staring at us waiting to see which of us was the patient. Pat checked in and I grabbed a seat. They immediately took Pat back to a little lab and drew some blood. The TV was still blaring away and people were chatting. Different medical assistants and lab techs kept coming in and out calling out names. It seemed ridiculously loud and I could feel the panic rising up from my gut. I looked around at all the bald heads, pale skin, thin bodies, and couldn't believe we were sitting there. I told Pat that everyone needed to be quiet and I thought the TV should get turned off. He knew that I wasn't really freaking out about the noise level, and for the hundredth time in this process, took my hand and assured me that everything was fine.

I started praying. I've recently discovered that praying truly helps you escape. I asked God to touch my amazing husband's body, I prayed for all the people who were sitting there and for their significant others and I prayed that God would ease my anxious heart. I begged that He would be patient with me as I am learning to trust him fully. At some point my prayers were interrupted when a medical assistant came out for us. She took us back to the oncologists actual office. He sat there behind a huge desk cluttered with charts. He asked Pat to tell him the whole story. Pat stuttered and stammered, searching for the words to start. I interjected and explained how it started and how we were referred, not once looking at Pat to make sure he was okay with my taking over. Poor Pat. The doctor looks over all the labs and tells us that Pat is young and healthy and he really thinks all is well and we don't even need to be there. But, since we are there he sends us down to an exam room so he can do a quick physical exam.

In my mind, I knew we weren't done yet. I knew we weren't getting out of this that easy. He came down and did all his doctor-y things with his stethoscope and little flashlight. All was well until he touched Pat's abdomen. He told us he could feel his spleen. In a normal adult, the spleen is not palpable. He told us he would order a CT scan to check out the actual size of the spleen. He then told us the possible causes of an enlarged spleen: a virus or infection, maybe he was just born with a big spleen, and possibly lymphoma. There it was. I knew it. Cancer. It was like a sharp slap across the face. I knew it was a really long walk back out through the office and the waiting room and I really wanted to start the walk so I could hurry up and lose it. As we walked out we passed many doorways, and without thinking I glanced quickly into each one as we passed, until one particular doorway stopped me dead in my tracks. It was a big room filled with recliners and IV poles, each set occupied by a person. Some were watching TV, reading books, working on laptops, while others were wrapped in blankets. This was the chemo room and in a moment, everything became a little too real.