Doing the Limbo

Oooo! Fire!

Not that kind of limbo. This kind.

Yeah, that's way creepier.

Dante's vision of limbo. The waiting area. The place where you're stuck between heaven and hell. Or something like that. I didn't read it. Sorry, Mrs. Wilson.

Not hell. Limbo. Get it straight, Dorothy.

Those who are keeping track (I think I may be up to 7 readers at this point), will have noticed that I haven't posted in quite a while. There are a couple of reasons for that.

The first is that I started back into classes, and I'm adjusting to being back at work. I'm teaching four beginning acting classes, plus a really cool class where we're workshopping a new musical. I happen to love teaching beginning acting, so having four sections of it isn't a bad thing at all. What is a bit of a challenge is that we're consolidating the curriculum. It's a really good idea to do it, and it also means that I have to change up how I teach.

I LOVE change. Nooooo, that's not sarcasm.

Then there's the other stuff.

I posted a couple of weeks back (I think... has it been longer?) that my PET CT showed that part of my cancer, instead of shrinking, got bigger. And multiplied.

So, when I went in the following Monday to see my oncologist and to (I thought) get my next treatment, things didn't go as planned. Instead of marching me back to pump poison into my veins (well, vein... the jugular... you know... the one that goes straight into my heart... thanks, Porter Rockwell), my doc said that it was time to do a heavy-duty biopsy.

It's called an excisional biopsy. A surgeon performs it. Basically, he made an incision about 3 or 4 inches wide under my arm, propped that bad boy open, and plucked out a couple of the affected (infected?) nodes. In my imagination, they looked like grapes, only grosser.

There are a few possibilities, my oncologist says, after we get the results back. This is going to necessitate a whole new regimen of chemotherapy. Yay! New side effects to get used to!

Yep. Something like that.

Oh, and more news! One of the regimens we talk about would necessitate a bone marrow transplant.

That would mean a couple of significant surgeries--one to get my bone marrow out before it's fried to a crisp, and another to put it back in. Honestly, if that were all it were, I'd call it a win. I'm basically a human voodoo doll at this point, anyway.

Voodoo. Not even once, y'all.

Anyhoo.

It would also mean about a month in the hospital, and then at least another month in isolation. I can teach my classes via Skype, right?

Now all I have to do is go and get scheduled for that biopsy. I reach out to the office my oncologist referred me to, and they tell me they can see me a week from Wednesday, (it's Monday, remember... first day of classes, so a week and a half away). I think, Oh, well, that's a little bit later than it sounded like my doctor had wanted. He seemed to indicate this was somewhat urgent, as I can't move forward with chemo until we know what's happening under my arm. But fine. Whatevs.

Then the receptionist says that once they've done the consult on that Wednesday, they'll schedule my surgery.

You tell 'em, Wayne. He's chiming in from my kidney. Stupid cancer.

I get off the phone, a bit discouraged, but mostly resigned. I call my oncologist's office to let them know when my appointment is. The nurse is like, "Your oncologist is on the phone, yelling at their office right now. I'm pretty sure they'll call you back to reschedule." I have a pit bull for a doctor. That's kinda awesome.

I get the call. I'm going in for the consult that Wednesday, a full week earlier than they said they could get me in. And my biopsy's going to be that Friday.

Ah, the perks of having cancer.

This is a real book, y'all. And no, I haven't read it.

During this same time, I've been cast in a film that decided that I was going to be shooting on that Wednesday, then rescheduled for Thursday and didn't tell me or my agent about it. I found out late Tuesday night... too late to get my students to come back at 9 the next day. So, now I have to get some or all of my classes covered for Thursday.

Long story short, the shoot went really well (I got to play a comedic character, for once), the classes were covered, and then I went in for the biopsy on Friday after class.

Oh, and that was bad timing, because one of those classes was a callback for the workshop for the new musical. Sigh. I got lots of help from good people, and we were able to figure it all out together. I cast the workshop over the weekend so we could have a table read for the producers, the writer and the composer on Monday.

Whew.

Biopsy. Right.

They went in and plucked out a couple of nodes. I've been sore since. I'm mostly fine now, but it's truly surprising to me how often my armpit gets clocked for no reason. Seriously. How?

I waited and waited and waited foe the results. I had been told late Monday or Tuesday. Thursday rolls around and finally, they're here! I call my oncologist, and he says...

"Um. The pathologists aren't sure. We're sending the biopsy up to the U of U. It should take five business days. It might be t-cell non-Hodgkins lymphoma."

Sing it, Tina. SING. IT.

So, does that mean that I have three cancers??? Possibly. Or the Hodgkins was a misdiagnosis? Also possibly. Or it mutated. Less likely, but maybe. No one knows. Or if they know, they aren't telling me. Maybe the brainiacs at the U will be able to figure something out.

Oh, and because it's Labor Day weekend, I probably won't get the results this week. Son of a....

And here's a picture of a dog for no reason whatsoever.

Apparently, the Universe wants me to learn something from just hanging out in limbo. Patience? Yeah, I suppose. Faith? Ugh, maybe. Compassion? All right, I'm putting my foot down. No one's gonna teach me compassion without my permission.

Yeah, I heard it, too.

That's where I am today, folks. You've been successfully caught up on my cancer woes. There's more to tell, but it's super fun and not about cancer (well, not much). I'll have to write that one tomorrow.

Or maybe I'll just let y'all hang out in limbo like me.

Maybe it's not Todd who's the d!ck.
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In the upcoming post, we search for the meaning of life... and then find it. Spoiler alert! It's...

I couldn't help myself. Sorry, Douglas Adams. Sorry, fans of Douglas Adams.

Next post.