Punchy Mommy Believes in Life

How I evicted the worst uninvited overnight guest and took back my life

Tag: Tumor

First breath for the second time

After three days of IV steroids, Solumedrol, and one day of chemo, I woke up and took a deep breath. I felt the air enter my mouth, then my throat and then, as my chest puffed out, I felt it seep down, down, down into my chest. It made it’s way through my lungs and I could feel it enter each and every nook and cranny. It felt like this breath had no ending. I just kept breathing in and the air kept traveling further and further into my body. It felt cool. Like when you open your mouth and take a deep breath after popping a minty piece of gum in your mouth. I didn’t realize my breathing had been affected by the tumor and for the first time, I could breath…deeply. I don’t remember my first breath at birth but if I had to guess, it would have felt like that. And, boy did it feel good.

Facing the facts

It’s finally morning and you’re in your hospital room after a long and sleepless night in the emergency room where you wound up after one week in the hospital after receiving the first of six rounds of chemotherapy because you were feeling short of breadth and fainty after you were discharged. In walks your new doctor, whom you’ve never met, his fellow, resident, intern, your doctor’s assistant, a social worker, pharmacist, your nurse, a nurse navigator, a cardiologist, and the cardiologist’s fellow and intern. All of them have a sad face on. They form a semi-circle at the foot of your bed. The cardiologist approaches you and says, I’d like to draw you a picture of the tumor in your heart and explain to you what’s happening. You:

a) Jump up out of bed, rip out your IVs, and run screaming from the room;

b) Pretend like you’re sleeping. Hopefully they will go away; or

c) Ignore the endless sad-faces, allow the Cardiologist to draw his pictures and hope and pray that he will eventually get to a point where he’ll say, the good news is…

Answer:

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