Now We’ve Got Bad Blood

The title of this post is an obvious reference to a Talyor Swift song, except I’m pretty sure she was writing about a guy.  I’m using the title to write about my brain tumor.  Despite that difference, Ms. Swift and I have a lot in common.  By “a lot,” I mean we both know what it’s like to get unfortunate phone calls from men.  A Jonas brother broke up with her in a twenty-seven second phone call, and I got a call from my endocrinologist last night in which he told me my blood work came back with bad news.  Her bad blood was metaphorical, but mine’s literal.  Let’s not compare our pain.

He was, after all, a Jonas brother.

The doctor called at almost ten o’clock last night, which should have tipped me off immediately that it was bad news.  Doctors never call that late.  If they do, it’s never to say something like, “Just thought I’d let you know – you’re totally and mysteriously cured!” or “I found a stray puppy and thought it might cheer you up; I’ll be dropping him off in ten minutes.”  Nope.  They always do that sigh where they  don’t want to say what they’re about to say, but they can’t pass the unpleasant task off to a lesser minion.  Then your heart sinks and you wonder, “Oh no, how bad is it this time?”

Is it bad that I am familiar with this process?  That I’ve gotten enough of these calls to know exactly how they go?  I could probably do them myself.  I should tell the doctor, “Next time just e-mail me the numbers and save us both the trouble.  I’ll call myself and break the news gently.”  I might put my husband’s lab coat and square-rimmed glasses on my dog and pretend he’s the one telling me.  Bad news would be less scary if it came from a beagle.

The bad news is that my blood results showed certain hormone levels four times above normal adult levels, which probably means that my tumor is growing.  There’s a bit of irony there: I can’t keep plants alive (at all), there’s a good shot I can’t ever get pregnant, but my body apparently does a damn good job at nurturing a tumor.  Thanks, body. You’re a gem.  I’d rather you had the ability to grow some healthy cilantro, but I don’t get to choose these things.

Anyway, the doctor’s trying to devise our next plan of attack on this little dude.  It’s not cancerous, it shouldn’t kill me, but it does a pretty fabulous job of messing up my life.  It’s like I’m in a dysfunctional relationship.  “It’s not you, tumor, it’s me.  Actually, no it’s you.  I think it’s time for us to break up.”  Then, just when I think my brain is rid of him for good, the tumor comes back and my brain is all, “Come here, ya knucklehead.  Let’s give this thing another shot.”  Because my brain is frickin crazy, that’s why.

I have to go back on a med I was on a while ago, and I need to double the dose.  I told the doctor that last time I was on that pill (taken once a week), I would be sick for the entire day after I took it.  It was pretty bad, stuck-on-the-couch-waiting-for-it-to-end sick.  I usually took the pill on Friday nights, spent my Saturday on the couch, and then recovered on Sunday to get ready for another week.  The doctor says I have to take it anyway because we want to be “aggressive” on getting my numbers back to healthy levels.  Now I’m supposed to take that same pill, and I have to take it twice a week.  I’m supposed to torch two days a week for at least the next six months?!  How am I supposed to do that?  I think I’ll torch Mondays.  Everyone hates Mondays.  Imagine a wonderful pill that lets you skip Mondays!  This is going to get complicated with work and everything, but we’ll figure that out later.  Right now I’m dreaming of a Monday-less life.  Who knows?  Maybe this drug won’t make me sick this time.  That was years ago.  I’m practically a new woman now.  Since that time in my life I’ve traveled the world,  I’ve voted for a Democrat,  I’ve learned how to make the perfect apple pie,  I’ve dyed my  hair purple, and…I’ve trained my body to better metabolize drugs?! (something like that…)

So. I’ve got bad blood results, but at least we have a plan.  I lamented to Andy last night that with all of my health issues, my life expectancy has to be quickly dropping.  I sighed and said I’m probably not going to live to see forty.  “Don’t worry about it,” he told me.  “Neither of us are even going to live to see thirty if Trump becomes president.  The rest of the world will nuke us off the map.”  And that’s why I love Andy – because he can make me laugh when I would prefer to kick a wall.

Keep your fingers crossed for me.  New pills start this weekend.

Advertisements

18 thoughts on “Now We’ve Got Bad Blood

  1. Ugh…. so terribly sorry you are having to deal with this… I am guessing it doesn’t really matter what anyone says, but will send good thoughts/healing wishes/prayers your way. I keep picturing Joy (from that Disney movie) jumping around and doing cartwheels saying, “You will beat this, you will beat this, GOOOOO YOUUUUUU!”

    Like

      • It’s “Inside Out,” about a pre-teen girl and all the emotions in her head. Amy Poehler voices Joy, Mindy Kaling as Disgust, other great voices…. Some cute Disney mindless entertainment (no pun intended….). Still loving your hair!!!!!

        Like

  2. Hazel, I admire your ability to always turn in a solid, well written post, even one that involves a tumor on your brain, for cryin’ out loud.
    I also admire your purple hair.
    Do your best (Cub Scout Motto)

    Liked by 1 person

  3. I so hate this for you. Any chance at normalcy flies right up your nose and into that tumor.

    You’ve got a couple months before school starts to see how bad the reaction will be. If you’re like my teacher-friends, you’ve got thousands of hours of sick time/vacation/days off in your bank. I hope so.

    Like

  4. With all the struggles you are going through, it seems like Andy knows just what to say. 🙂 I truly hope you continue to always have people in your life that can make you smile and laugh when all you want to do is kick a wall. ❤
    Sending good thoughts your way

    Like

  5. I feel like I was supposed to pull away more than you died your hair purple but that is the only thing sticking. That’s probably because every time I see someone with bright colored hair I assume they are some kind of ninja. Since Ninjas can do anything I also assume that means you can beat this. It’s a very simple if so/then statement of facts.

    Like

  6. To execute a profitable multi-channel integration, however,
    requires that a strong multi-channel technique is in place that may
    steer the campaifn on the precise course and make sure all of its interactive advertising and marketing ducks
    are in a row.

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s