Appointment on Monday

Today I'm feeling: Tired, but good.

Tired because I ran 3.1 miles this morning, the equivelant of a 5K race, and I did hills for about half of it. I'll mostly take it easy today, even try for a nap, hoping a child doesn't wake me or a dog doesn't lick me. But overall, I feel good -- not like someone who's sick.



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The lymphoma specialist's office called late yesterday afternoon. I go to see him Monday at 8:00am. I was impressed with how quick that was, and his secretary said he liked to see new patients within a week of getting a referral. I'm assuming I'm also benefiting from the fact that Dr. R used to work with Dr. C, and knows the secretary well, and not that Dr. C is worried and so wants to see me quicly. (Dr. R has already discussed my case with Dr. C by phone, so my guess is that they agree with the waiting approach in general). There may be something new after the meeting, since he'll now get to see the biopsy slides and scan pictures himself. But I'm guessing there won't be too much new to say about the situation.



However, since he's a specialist in lymphoma (Dr. R is a general oncologist), I'm gathering more specific questions about NHL, and follicular lymphoma in particular, that I can ask.



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Thanks to Nicole, my friend and colleague, for this helpful description of the low-grade lymphoma paradox:



"Here's how a doctor I know once explained the difference between slow growing

and fast growing cancer --Imagine slow growing cancer is like a Lincoln Continental (say, 1980-ish), and fast growing cancer is like a little, speedy sportscar (you pick). The sports car is easier to knock off the road than the Lincoln, but the Lincoln is MUCH

less likely to wreck on its own or to incur serious damage. So treatment isn't as simple, but the cancer isn't as dangerous."



Very nicely said.



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The Not-Knowing is still frustrating, even after a day or so to think about it. I'm focusing on the overall news, which is positive. Isabel, a woman of action, would like to be able to do something -- anything, it seems, including tearing out the effected lymph nodes by hand. No real change in Peter or Catherine's attitudes toward it all, at least not outwardly, but John was a little upset last night about the lingering uncertainty. Isabel talked to him about his own uncertainty in living with food allergies. We all panicked when we first learned of his diagnosis, and thought for sure we wouldn't ever be able to do what we needed to do to keep him safe. But we did. We read a lot, we experimented a lot, we served as advocates for him, and while his allergies haven't gone away, we've learned to do what we can to live with the uncertainty. He seemed better after that.



So maybe that's our model. We're always kind of on the edge with him. We've accepted that there are lots of things beyond our control with his situation, but we do what we can to prevent and prepare, and then we do what we can when it's time to take action. We'll do the same with the lymphoma. Watch and wait. Ask plenty of questions so we're prepared when we need to be.



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Isabel and I are going to see Rent tonight on stage at the Shubert -- I got Isabel tickets for Christmas.



I'm probably not going to post anything tomorrow (Sunday), unless people want my thoughts on the South Carolina primary or the Tom Brady situation -- you know, "typical" blog stuff. But I'll definitely post on Monday, late morning or afternoon, after I see Dr. C.