Writing From Houston
It’s Wednesday at about noon and I’m writing from a hotel in Houston where I stayed last night. I’m trying to relax a bit after a grueling day of medical tests yesterday. We will meet with my doctor this afternoon to hear where I currently stand.
Yesterday was one of those days you just have to get through, write it off, and hope that the new day is better. My flight was delayed (which was fine because I got to hang out with my friend Brooks at the airport). There was bad weather between OKC and Houston, so when we took off an hour late, it was a bumpy, turbulent ride. (Still, no complaints. It’s amazing that one can fly in conditions like that and get to Houston in about an hour.)
I arrived and went in for blood work. Unfortunately for me, the girl I drew was a novice. She missed my vein twice, then did that horrifying thing when they move the needle around in your arm, searching. YIKES! Thankfully, she called in reinforcements, and things went well after that.
From there, I had a chest x-ray. Then I went choked down a tuna sandwich and walked over to the Rotary House and spoke to a group of cancer patients about writing through difficult times.
At 7 p.m., I was back at MD Anderson for a chest CT scan. I had to drink that disgusting barium drink they give you for the lower GI (that’s code for a hose up the butt and an enema). To prep, I had to get an IV, which meant being stuck with a needle in the same arm for the fourth time in five hours.
The test was over at 9:30 p.m., and I caught a ride to my hotel, where I drank as much water as I could and ate dry Fruit Loops until I fell asleep.
As for today? Well, to be honest, I’m not expecting good news. My stomach has been hurting a lot lately. I have strange new pains in my middle section. I only eat about one good meal a day. And my voice comes and goes. More often than not, it sounds raspy and breathy.
Maybe we’ll be surprised. Maybe there are minor adjustments we can take to help things. I have been experiencing a lot of stress lately.
I guess the CT scan will tell us what we need to know.
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Comments
Jim, I believe you have a special mission in this life to help others greatly. I am just so sorry you have to experience such pain to achieve that mission. My prayers are with you. Sheron
We’re with you every step of the way – your readers, your friends out here. Always by your side. Except when you’re in the shower or something, that would be weird. Seriously, Jim. You know we love you. Hang in there.
With so many responses to your previous blog, it shows how there are so many of us, some complete strangers who are truly concerned about you, Jim. And wishing, hoping, praying, longing for you to have good days, good news for you and your entire family.
Lots of love from afar–If you are interested go to Rudy Scholarship Nominees on google and read about Matthew as a nominee and if he inspires you or just because we are friends, give him a vote. Curt and I are always praying and here if we can do anything. Sally
Sending happy thoughts and good luck wishes your way. I hope all goes well with the doctors and the news is better than you expect!