Cautiously Hopeful

On Thursday the 20th, my father will have been in the hospital for a month.

It’s weird how the mind adapts to new routines. For the past month, I’ve been at the hospital nearly every day. The image of my father in a hospital bed with tons of wires attached to him is no longer shocking, it’s normal. The smell of the ICU is stuck in my nose.

My family and I have talked to more doctors and nurses than I can count. There are days when I can’t even remember what day it is.

The crazy thing is, it doesn’t look like this will be over anytime soon. My father is in critical condition, and is progressing very, very slowly. On Saturday, the doctors said it would be a “miracle” if he pulls through this. On Sunday, they seemed more optimistic. One doctor said that we should be “cautiously hopeful.” That all we can do is wait, and hope that he comes around.

So that’s what we’re doing: waiting and hoping.

River

On a completely unrelated note, I had an ultrasound yesterday.

In the middle of the test, the ultrasound tech actually asked, “this surgeon who did your biopsy last year, did he come highly recommended to you?”

Every doctor I’ve talked to seems completely baffled by what happened to me.

The ultrasound confirmed that the lump is still there- same size and everything. The doctor gave me two options:

I feel like I’m back in the exact same place as I was when I wrote this post. Since there’s nothing I can do about it, however, I chose the latter. This Friday, I will go in for the core needle biopsy. When I get the results from that, it’s likely that I’ll have to have another surgery.

At this point, even though I am scared about Friday, I am much more concerned with my father’s condition.

Please, please keep my father in your thoughts.

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It’s Been One Week…

Confession: I spent from 1 to 6 p.m. yesterday laying in my bed in the dark.

On Friday, when I got my biopsy results, I felt amazing. So amazing, that when Jeff offered to get me out of the apartment, I jumped at the chance. I had been laying in bed or on our couch all week, and I was going a little stir crazy.

And there was no way I was going to miss the blogger trip to TJ’s and Whole Foods on Saturday, so I went to that, too.

Getting my biopsy results kind of made me forget the fact that I had just gone through surgery a few days before. While I don’t regret going out on Friday or Saturday, doing so completely wiped me out.

I was finally feeling semi back to normal, and then on Sunday, I felt like this all over again:

hospital

That picture seems surreal to me. I can’t believe that was a week ago.

Two weeks ago, I went to a 5:45 a.m. spinning class, and then straight to a pilates class, and felt awesome.

One week ago, I was barely able to lift a tissue with my right hand. Jeff had to lift water glasses to my mouth, and help me get to the bathroom in the middle of the night.

I know that going through this has made me stronger, but I also know that thinking about it still scares the crap out of me. I know that if I had to go through it again, I’d be just as scared. I’d forget what it was like the first time.

When Jeff updated my blog for me after the surgery, he said that I handled going into surgery really well, and that all of your support helped me stay calm. He was right.

I’m both overwhelmed and amazed by the support and love I’ve received from so many people that I don’t know. All of your comments, tweets, and e-mails have really helped me through this.I don’t think I’d be in such good condition if it weren’t for you.

When I received my biopsy results, all I had to say was “it’s negative,” and so many of you knew what that meant without asking.

I love the blogging community. I really don’t know where I’d be today if I never started this blog.

Thank you all so much.

I realize that this post went in seven different directions. I rambled. It’s OK. Rambling is good sometimes.

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