Surprises.

We got back in the car and waves of our bitter reality began to flow over us. I remember looking out the car window and hearing a Tim McGraw song play on the radio.

“He said I was in my early forties, with a lot of life before me.

 And a moment came that stopped me on a dime.

I spent most of the next days, looking at the xrays,

Talking about the options, and talking about sweet time.

 I asked him when it sank in if this might really be the real end?

 How’s it hit you when you get that kind of news?

Man whatcha do?

 And he said, ‘I went sky diving. I went rocky mountain climbing.

 I went two point seven seconds on a bull named Fu Man Chu.

And I loved deeper.

And I spoke sweeter.

And I gave forgiveness I’d been denying’.

And he said, ‘Some day I hope you get the chance to live like you were dying’.”

Big tears rolled down my cheeks. This song had become my anthem, not because it brought me any happiness or peace, but because it had become my reality. My mom choked back tears. We didn’t say much on the car ride home.

My parents ate their dinner in my room that night. My dad sat in the uncomfortable faded white wicker chair. I could see that his back was hurting him in his hunched over position. I knew he worked all day, and he worked so hard. I also knew that nothing could tear him away from his girl. No amount of discomfort would stop him from being there for me now.

Things had gotten serious.

I woke up the next morning to an unpleasant surprise. I brushed my hand across the side of my neck and immediately felt a very large nodule. I had been keeping tabs on my lymph nodes since my spleen had become enlarged months back. I knew I could palpate the nodes in my neck, under my arms and even in my groin. But this morning was different. This morning I discovered a node larger than any I had felt. I looked in the mirror and to my horror realized I could see it protruding out of my neck. I knew something was very wrong.

Later that afternoon, I spiked a fever. The past three days my fevers had begun to rise in temperature. I was accustomed to the 99 degree fevers, but now I was spiking temps of 102 degrees. We put a call in to Dr. Dickinson. “Did I need to go to the hospital? Did I need to be put in one of those ice baths?”. I really didn’t want to go to the hospital, but part of me wondered if it wasn’t the worst idea. “Maybe they could keep an eye on me.” Things had gotten so out of control.

Dr. Dickinson told us that we could go to the hospital, but there was nothing they would be doing for me there that we weren’t already doing. He told us that if my temps got above 103 degrees to consider going in. For now, we were to sit tight.

My nerves were shot. I was nauseated by the whole darn thing. I was scared of going to bed that night. I didn’t want to wake up to any more surprises.

I had secretly begun to wonder if I would wake up at all.