The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly

What I learned at today's doctor's appointment:

• Apparently, 2 weeks ago...they were supposed to biopsy a lymph node, not my liver. Ehhhh. Minor mis-communication. Ha!  Liver. Lymph node. It's all the same. LOL. Seriously, though...the story is longer and more complicated than that, but basically the spot on my liver is SO small and SO close to my lung that it was really not an ideal place to thrust a needle through my body grab some tissue. (Not that there is really ANY ideal place to do this). What I didn't know before today was that they weren't sure if they got the right spot on the first try and though they went in for a second try, when I was experiencing so much pain, they abandoned the attempt.
• I am being scheduled to have another biopsy sometime next week. This time, they will biopsy a lymph node and the sacral mass in my pelvis. Two for the price of one! The good news is that this "should" be less painful than the liver biopsy. The good and bad news is that the masses are SO small that  it won't be easy to get samples. I, personally, think this may be a "good" problem to have. Certainly better than "the masses are so large, we could get a sample with our eyes closed"!
• Despite mine and my husband's efforts to coerce the doctor  into predicting my future and accurately diagnosing me on the spot with his special doctor powers, we don't have any answers. It is all speculation at this point. Could it be cancer? Yes. Could it be something else? Yes. If it is cancer, can it be treated? Abso-freaking-lutely Yes.

It is easy for me to gravitate to "worst-case scenarios". After all, I am a woman and I was bred for that kind of catastrophic thinking. It's how we learn to protect ourselves and our young. And, as if I didn't already think daily of my friend Steph, who lost her battle with cancer in 2009 at age 35, now I think about her even more. Constantly almost. She had such strength and spirit and grace and determination and every good word I can think of...and she didn't make it. It's SO not fair. BEYOND unfair. So far beyond unfair that in 2 plus years I still have not been able to wrap my itty-bitty brain around it. Why her? Why? Why me?  I have to keep reminding myself that these are different journeys. That even if this does turn out to be cancer, it doesn't mean I won't be ok. That for every heart-wrenching soul-crushing loss of life to cancer, there is a story of hope out there. People who get through it. Everybody's story is different. I am no exception. It sucks...SUCKS...that she is gone. But, it doesn't mean my journey will be the same as hers.

I don't really know where I am going with all this, which I suppose is the point of "stream-of-consciousness" writing. But, I know that...though I don't know much...I think I have a lot of things going for me in this situation and I am gonna do my dernd-est to focus on those things. I know that the size of my support system is immensely larger than the size of those little buggers that are lighting up in mah belly. I know that I am in a really GOOD location to have this problem. I know that there is still a chance that my body is just super-weird and there is something super-unconventional happening in there. (Key the music {"She's a Superfreak, Superfreak...yeah"}...)

My husband doesn't say much. Ever. But today, he said 2 things that I needed to hear: 

1. Something to the effect of: "If it's cancer, they will get in there and zap those suckers and all will be ok."
2. "I'm not going anywhere..."