This new annoyance continued through Friday and Saturday. By Saturday night, walking was becoming increasingly difficult, as it hurt with each step I took. Interestingly enough I was completely fine while sitting, standing still or lying down. I kept telling myself I had just pulled a muscle, but the longer I went without working out while still having the intensity increase, the more I started thinking it might be something worse.
Could it be a tumor?
Sunday was agony. I invited my parents over for dinner and the strain of cleaning up and cooking for everyone made the pain almost unbearable. Fear started creeping into my head like a monster, silently sneaking out of a child's closet late at night. I had to call the doctor first thing in the morning.
I woke up this morning, limped downstairs, moaned as I took the puppy outside to pee, grunted as I climbed back upstairs to wake the boys and whined as I held tightly onto the bannister and hobbled back downstairs to get everyone ready for school. I just wanted to wait for the kids to leave before I made the call to Dr. L's office so they wouldn't hear me.
But before I had a chance to make the call I noticed an e-mail from Tara congratulating Lily and me, once again, and giving each of us the other's contact information so we could start getting to know each other. Up until this point, Lily and my communications had been facilitated by Tara, not by direct contact. While my heart wanted to immediately reach out to this amazing woman and thank her for the gift of her uterus, my head put a stop to it. What if the cancer is back? What if this whole baby thing is all a big tease, like dangling a banana in a monkey's face then yanking it away before he has a change to get his hands on it?
But I didn't have much time to contemplate my next move before I heard...
"Good morning, Suzanne!"
It was from Lily. I never thought she'd write first, but I was so excited that she did. We exchanged a few friendly notes back and forth, and, in between, I put in a call to Dr. L's office, explained my symptoms and was awaiting a call back. Nothing about my initial impression of Lily was swayed during our brief e-mail exchange. She still came across as totally down-to-Earth, easy to talk to and completely genuine. Should I tell her I'm waiting to hear back from the doctor?
"Hi Suzanne. I spoke to Dr. L and he wants to move your July CT scan to tomorrow."
Insert conversation from above here.
So that's where it stands. Tomorrow at 12:40 PM I'll be full of oral contrast with an IV dangling out of my arm, waiting to be filled with injectable contrast as I slide in and out of the giant internal picture machine. I have no idea when I'll have the results this time. Usually my scans are scheduled for the day before a follow-up appointment with my oncologist, but this time the nurse said, "After Dr. L reviews the results we'll see how he wants to proceed."
Hopefully I won't get a call saying, "We have the results but he needs to see you in person." Good or bad, a call like that will send me into hysterics. Basically, unless I get a call that immediately confirms that everything is ok, I'm gonna be a basket case. On the plus side, a surprise scan saves me the weeks of anxiety buildup that come with a scheduled scan. I don't have time to stress over it. I don't have a chance to bite everyone's head off the week leading up to it because I don't have a week to let it wear me down.
I have 11 hours. Wish me luck.