Day 7. Distractions.

Everything is still at a standstill.  This is the most frustrating part so far - the waiting.  When I was first diagnosed, I was devastated but I immediately went into fight mode.  I just want to hurry up and start treatment, because the sooner I begin, the sooner I'll be in remission.  But after a week of nothing, I've started to lose my positivity and have had too much time to think about everything and get even more scared.

I'm still waiting to hear back from the specialist in Washington DC about whether NLPHL is actually the sub-type I have, or if it's some other type of Hodgkin's.  And until I have a 100% diagnosis, the Seattle Cancer Care Alliance won't see me.  I did get a call from them today though, and they're reviewing the referrals from my primary care physician and my surgeon.  The next available appointment isn't for two more weeks, but they're looking at my charts to see if my case is more urgent.  As much as the waiting sucks, I'd rather it be two weeks before I see them than find out that my case is urgent.  So in the meantime, I'm going to try to get in to see a local oncologist sooner, then go see one at SCCA to get a second opinion.

While I wait, I've been doing a lot more research about NLPHL since that's the sub-type I most likely have.  I've found both good news (well, as good as cancer news can be) and bad news.  Good news, of all the Hodgkin's types, NLPHL is the easiest to treat.  In fact, there's a good chance that if it's a stage I or II, I may not have to have chemo at all.  A lot of NLPHL cases are treated with radiation and Rituxan.  How great would that be?!  I mean, the treatment would still suck, but it would be a lot better than chemo!  The bad news about NLPHL is it's not exactly curable.  Most patients relapse.  More than once.  There's a very good chance that I could relapse and have to fight this cancer 3-4 times in my life.  If not more.  But I'm trying not to let that distract me.  I have to focus on getting a knockout in round one, and hope that there are no more fights in my future.

It's still easy for me to forget that I have cancer.  I'm going to make the most of that time, I've decided.  Because in a couple of months, when the side effects of treatment are kicking in, it will be with me constantly.  But for now, I can still pretend that I'm a healthy 27-year-old.

I took my mom to the Seahawks/Broncos game on Sunday, and it was the best day I've had in a long time.  It was just what she and I needed after the week we'd had.  If you've never been to a Seahawks home game, it's one of the most electrifying experiences ever.  The people, the team, the atmosphere - it's incredible.  I've been to a lot of games, but this one was the best, by far.  The score was way too close for my liking, and I thought I was going to have a heart attack during overtime, but it was amazing.  It made me forget about everything else for a while.

It doesn't take much for me to remember, though.  My incision from the biopsy still hurts, and every time I lift my arm too high or roll the wrong way when I'm trying to sleep, I remember why it's there.  When my calves start itching like crazy, I remember.  Certain words or phrases are a shot to the gut.  I was at the surgeon's office for a follow-up on Friday, and he said "Well, that's the last I'll be seeing of you, unless your oncologist refers you to me to have your port put in."  Port.  Oh yeah, the thing that I have to have surgically implanted in my chest.  Yup, thanks cancer.

You know what the worst part has been though?  The looks on peoples' faces when they see me for the first time since finding out.  The sadness and the pity.  I hate it.  I hate people feeling sorry for me and looking at me like I'm broken.  

I'm not broken.  I might be scared, but I'm a warrior.  I will win this battle.