It’s blood test day, a week since the last one. We’re hopeful. Red cells still 108 (at least they haven’t gone down but it would be lovely if they’d go up) and the platelets are up to 245. Yeahy.
Dr Inscrutable confirms that the evil spleen has been sent to a specialist to confirm the lymphoma they already know from other tests is there. Husband tells him that he‘s really quite uncomfortable below one of his ribs and that it hurts when he takes a deep breath. Doc looks slightly concerned (his facial expression only ever changes imperceptibly but I think I’m learning how to read the minuscule changes).
Off for a chest x-ray. Immediately. Then we wait. It may be clear in which case we can go, it may require the input of a chest doc, in which case we’ll have to wait a while.
Dr Inscrutable explains that they’re looking to see if Husband has a blood clot on the lung. I can scarcely breathe. I’m exhausted, trying not to cry because that really won’t help. Husband simply says, ‘I didn’t see that one coming’.
We need the input of a chest doc… Dr Inscrutable goes to see him. This head of department actually takes the time to physically go and see his colleague in another department.
We need a CT scan. Dr Inscrutable looks more concerned than earlier and the nurse who inserts the cannula is genuinely sympathetic. Husband must be fed up of people looking sympathetic but he hasn’t complained once. CT scan can’t be done until later in the day so it’s off to Mum’s for coffee. I text her: ‘possible blood clot on lung. We don’t know anything so please don’t ask’.
I feel so very low, like I have nothing else in reserve. Mother does a superb job feeding me, letting husband play with her recliner chair and we walk the dogs. A bit of normality, one foot going in front of the other as my heart feels like lead. Actually my heart feels like something heavier than lead but I can’t think of anything. I am struggling to breathe. I try to recall the internet reading I’ve done, how they might treat a blood clot. ‘Please Lord if there’s a clot may they find it and know what to do about it’.
Back up to the hospital. CT scan and back up to Cancer Unit to see what they suggest. No-one knows what’s happening yet but the nurses look a bit tense for us. I don’t need any help doing tense – I’ve got it covered 🙂 .
Dr Inscrutable comes to find us. There is no blood clot. He’s smiling. Wow – so he really can do facial expressions. The nurse removing the cannula erupts into a beaming smile and a ‘That’s fabulous!’. She’s not wrong. It really feels like we’ve dodged a bullet. I still want to cry but it’s because I’m so relieved. Text Mother from car park: ‘No blood clot 🙂 🙂 ’. Immediate response: ‘Thank you, Lord! 🙂 .’ I know she’s been praying for us all afternoon.
I came across a nice image on Facebook: ‘Someone will keep going tomorrow because you’ve prayed for them tonight’. Messaged it to Mother pronto. I’ve been so conscious in recent months of people I don’t even know (and those I do) praying for us. When I’ve been too tired to pray, too tired to think, I’ve taken great comfort knowing that God doesn’t need long clever prayers, He knows I’m exhausted. Just as people took the sick to Jesus to be healed I am conscious of people carrying us through prayer. I am so grateful.