... so you took a little extra?

"I knew that."
"When did you know?" The pre-surgery screener wondered how I knew the diganosis before I had actually seen the results.
"About a week ago actually, I was meditating and it just came to me. Oh so that's it then..."
But I only knew the half of it. This was the day of my consultation with the Ear, Nose, and Throat people - my pipes are on candid camera, my tongue the star of it's own movie (see yourself swallow) oh my. I had been having random episodes of waking in a panic as though suffocating, sometimes dreaming of being trapped with no air. Other times things were getting hard to swallow, like more than one asprin or even a bit of lunch that got stuck part way. This explained plenty. The "lump" they called the mass was bigger on the inside and at times blocking my airway when I slept, especially if on my back, or on my left side.
"What are you doing tomorrow?"
Nothing on my to-do list, "what do you need me to do?"
"Well, we need a surgical biopsy soon..."
I had heard the "voice" about a week before, "it is lymphoma" it said. No one had said any such thing to me as they seem to err on the side of caution when using any definitive terms. My brother had asked me what the "good doctors" said, "take this and that and more tests!" I told him which was the whole truth, nobody was speculating about anything, so my body tells me in that quiet firm voice what it is.
She had looked at me a bit dubiously and took it at face value without further comment, but later said she was a lymphoma survivor. It was offered upliftingly and I took it that way. So what I was doing tomorrow, was going in for surgery the next morning, and I would be going home by late afternoon. Piece of cake... not much can be said about the procedure (I slept through the juicy parts), but the prep staff had kept my mind busy with questions and reassurances, and before I knew it- boom I was waking up in recovery surrounded by friendly attentive angelic faces surprised that I remembered names from earlier that morning. It had apparently gone swimmingly, I took my "meds" as directed and the site healed and I arrived at the surgical follow-up the next week. Life was a bit more normal by then; water ceased tasting like battery acid, I made it through by powdering all pills and mixing my dose with pudding or ice cream, or my morning oat meal. It is a bit bitter but you choke it down with your mind on the positive results, antibiotics and pain killer means healing and comfort. Taste is meaningless.
To me the site did not look good (candid camera again) but you could see how the airway was much less obstructed. They are not usually quite so aggressive in these cases however... "So you took a little extra?" The compassionate brown eyes rolled at the word little, I was getting a hint. They took as much as they dared without endangering surrounding facial and neck structures. I used the word again, the eyes rolled again... I said, "ok so I am getting that it was more than a little and it is not your usual procedure...." In fact they had probably saved my life even then because since that time I have not had the suffocating attacks, nor any obstruction in swallowing. Given a little more time without treatment I could've... well, I don't snore like I once did either. Big Score for Quality of Life!

... just so long as it isn't life threatening.

Actually Life is a non-sequiter, like stepping onto a rapidly moving walkway with no warning. Boom! You're on your butt before you can even grab for the handrail. Oh they didn't mention handrails? Well, grab something and HOLD ON!

Waking up in the middle of an important conversation that is all about you with no apparent context and absolutely no reference point.

It had been a hell of a winter, whirlwind trip to the grandparents for a big family Thanksgiving; meeting new arrivals to the family, members of inlaws rarely if ever seen. Back to the real world, a flat tire before arriving home... and 4 weeks to move my son out of his apartment. Going to "have-to" find someone to see my worsening tooth condition before it does something evil. In February we locate a friendly neighborhood clinic where they agree to examine my mouth and prescribe anti-biotics for the infection and swelling.

"I just wanna be sure it isn't life threatening, if it's benign I can live with it...."

"If I get you a referal to see a specialist will you go?"

"Yes, of course."

"I want to do some more blood-work, take this to the lab and then make an appointment to come back in 3 weeks."
Well, I did but it was of course inconclusive (more tests!). And the calls for appointments started coming, which I kept. went through all the obligatory motions, complied with all requests, supplied information, and went where directed. My patient advocate (personal witch-doctor) was my shield and my witness, moral support, consolation and navigation on this voyage.

Hey Doc, what's this? I was quite casual but specific about the small lump under my right jaw... so begins my story in a very non-sequitorial way. In the middle of some other thing, kind of like a third random shoe dropping in the otherwise silent night. So this blog begins October 12, 2012 which seems a nice number somehow...

Please read the rest of the story which is still ongoing as I live and breathe, and navigate the straits of chemo-therapy for http://www.webmd.com/cancer/mantle-cell-lymphoma I had sought out a dental clinic to get some teeth worked on, and they said my blood pressure was too high so I had to see one of their regular MD's before they would do such work to get the pressure down. I knew I needed those teeth extracted and the infection was the worst right then so I requested anti-bio-tics and promised to make an appointment since I knew the relief wouldn't last and the process would take a little time. Finally, all things fulfilled  hypertension under control the dentist pulled the 2 offending rotters and I went home happy. I knew I had a follow-up appointment with the doctor in a few weeks so I was concerned with healing and eating normally again...