When cancer comes to call, it is entirely unexpected. We have spent no anxious days wondering about a suspicious lump, and no sleepless nights waiting for test results. Except in hindsight, there isn’t a single suggestion of cancer’s imminent visit. No, on this raw January day, cancer broadsides our family when it causes my husband to have a seizure in the middle of a Lone Star Cafe where we’re eating lunch. In six hours flat we speed from fajitas and salsa in the suburbs, through two local hospitals, and on to a big downtown ER. There, we’re warehoused until we can see a neurosurgeon about the scary grey mass that shows up on a CT of Paul’s brain.
I had planned to write a more thoughtful blog today, but things went off the rails late last night and today I’m so tired that it hurts to think. I’ve never done well with little sleep and it doesn’t appear that age or experience has changed that fact.
Hubby got a tiny sliver in his finger a couple of days ago. He managed to find it and remove it, but yesterday, over the course of several hours, that finger turned from a normal-looking digit into one that was red and swollen. It worsened over the course of the evening, so we visited my friends in the ER about 11:00 last night. After a period of waiting, a dose of IV antibiotics, and an x-ray, we didn’t get home and into bed until 3 a.m. A few hours later, we got up so we could return to the hospital for a second dose of antibiotics. All’s well, but my head is so thick right now that I can’t think. Continue reading “Why I Write.”