So about six weeks ago I noticed a sizeable lump in the right side of my neck. It doesn't hurt, it doesn't itch, it's not tender. It's just big, solid, and SHOULD NOT BE THERE!!
Alright, secret's out. I am a HUGE Dr. Pimple Popper fan- Dr. Sandra Lee, board certified dermatologist and BADASS. If you're not familiar, Dr. Lee first gained fame on her YouTube channel, with videos of her removing lipomas and cysts and extracting blackheads, milia, and pore of winers. It might sound kind of strange and gross... and it is! But she got a following fast, and subsequently got her own show on TLC.
So! When I first noticed my big bump on my neck, I kind of downplayed it. I mean, I've been a Dr. Pimple Popper for long enough, I know my shit! So, being the obvious expert I am: "Eh, it's just some sort of epidermoid cyst or perhaps a lipoma. Nothing to worry about."
But I couldn't stop thinking about it. So one night while sitting on my couch watching TV with my dad, I brought it up. I pulled the blue and green snarls of hair off to the left side and exposed my neck to him. His reaction wasn't encouraging. I was several feet away but he could see the knot sticking out.
"I have a meeting with Dr. Bayliss in December," I said. "I'll make sure and show it to him."
"Hon," my dad said seriously, "You need to get that looked at soon."
So about a week later, I found myself in the La Familia waiting room, nervously chipping at my fingernails. I gotta hand it to La Familia-- the SECOND I walked in the door they plied me with offers of ALL KINDS of shots and vaccinations and boosters. I politely declined each time.
I will come out and tell you all: I have a condition called Autoimmune Hemolytic Anemia. Basically it means my blood is ALL KINDS of messed up. I won't get into the details because it's insanely complicated but suffice it to say, because of this condition, last time I got a flu shot, I almost died. Literally. My blood clotted and I had to be flown in a helicopter down to Santa Fe. So! I CANNOT take flu shots or the COVID vaccine because there's a HUGE risk of very serious complications.
Last time I saw my hematologist, I asked him if I could get the COVID vaccine. He set down the clipboard he was holding and placed his pen on top of it. He looked at me seriously. He said, "Out of one million people, I'd say there are probably two who SHOULDN'T get the vaccine. You are one of the two."
So, in my controversial opinion, I think the COVID shots are GOOD!! I think they are a very good idea! I just, for health reasons, can't partake. I WOULD IF I COULD!!
But I digress.
They know me at La Familia. They got me back fairly quickly, and first my doc and I discussed my lab work that he had ordered. I am physically healthy as a horse! Except for the neck lump. But we agreed I am mentally in a very good place right now. FINALLY found a good combo of meds that seem to be working.
Regarding the lump, however, didn't go as smoothly. He gently probed the bump with his fingers, checking the firmness and motility. He looked deep down into my throat to see if anything looked suspicious, but it seemed normal. So I was ready for him to say, "Yup, looks like a little lipoma."
What he said, instead, was, "I don't know what this is. I'm scheduling you for an ultrasound. Then I'll probably send you to an Ear, Nose, and Throat specialist. We'll see."
I would THINK if you're reading this, you know me at least a LITTLE. Enough to know I am a ridiculous worrier. So for the days leading up the the ultrasound, I was nervous. I mean, I've had them before... maybe that was part of the problem. When I was in the hospital with my pulmonary emboli and DVT, they did a full ultrasound of my leg and found what the little tech dude said was, "The biggest clot he'd ever seen."
But this time was much different. The ultrasound tech was incredibly kind and explained what was going on and angled the screen so I could watch.
She "hmm'd" a few times. "I see three separate masses, with crud in them," she told me. It wasn't a sad tone, just kind of puzzled.
But I hopped out of there, SO GLAD to be done with it.
I was sitting on my couch later that night when I got a phone call from my doctor. "I don't like what we saw on the ultrasound," he told me. "We need a CT scan."
After we hung up, I cried a little. This whole time, I had kept dancing around that word: cancer. I don't know why, but having to have this CT scan just made everything scarier.
Thanks to Thanksgiving, I had to wait about a week for my CT appointment. Which gave me time to worry. However, I saw THIS on Facebook. It's my new mantra.
After some thought, I realized it's not so much the CT scan I was so worried about... it was the results.
But I had bigger problems ahead.
These are my ears.
You see all that metal? It ALL had to come out!! It took me literally twenty minutes. For the last obstinate one I ALMOST went and got my dad's needle nose pliers!
This morning went smoothly... I had to fast for four hours before the scan because of the contrast dye they use. I was promptly greeted at the check-in desk, signed a couple things, and sat down in the 6-foot distance-obliging chairs. I tapped my toes. I knew it was basically a fancy XRay but hell, it's ME! Through a tall window came a beam of morning sunlight that warmed my hands.
A young woman came out of the door labeled "LAB".
"Sarah?" She smiled at me.
"That would be me," I said, smiling back. She ushered me through the heavy door and we walked side-by-side down a wide hallway.
"Oh!" she said suddenly. "I'm supposed to ask your last name, just in case..."
"There are a lot of us Sarahs," I agreed somberly, nodding. She laughed and we took a left. There was a door labeled, wait for it, "CT SCAN."
We entered, and I took it all in. Everything was white and sterile and impressive. A few different women were milling about, some pushing buttons on a gargantuan piece of equipment shaped like a powdered donut on its side.
"My name's Amy," the woman told me. "And this--" she indicated a young woman with cool hair-- " is Brianna. Now. Couple questions! Are you allergic to the contrast dye we use?"
"Not that I know of..."
"Are you allergic to any medications?"
"Codeine and Abilify," I answered. Doctors and nurses always get confused when I say the latter. But it's true! I was on Abilify for months and was sicker than a dog.
"Allergic to any foods?"
"Carrots," I said before I caught myself. I shouldn't joke! "No, no, no, nothing!"
"So what are ya in here for?" she asked kindly. I did my thing: hair over the left shoulder, baring my lump. Her brow furrowed as she probed it with her fingertips, then put some sort of medical sticker on top of it.
"So are you an easy stick? Or a hard stick?" Amy asked. I've been having blood draws regularly for over half my life so I knew exactly what she meant.
"Very, very hard," I responded. "Julian (my favorite blood taker) always has to go in my hand. But I have good news!"
Both women looked up at me, puzzled and curious.
"I'm not afraid of needles AT ALL! Poke all you want!"
"Well, aren't you accommodating?" laughed Brianna.
"Alright," said Amy, "Let me have your glasses and keys and phone, and I'll have you lie down."
I was surprised and very pleased I didn't have to change into hospital-wear. I thought the underwire in my bra might cause problems but turns out it was JUST the neck area they were doing, no lower.
So I lied down on the donut bed with my arms out to the sides, like Jesus on the cross. Amy was negotiating veins in my left elbow and Brianna was gently pushing into my right hand veins. They had nurse-hands, if that makes any sense. Warm and clean and a little bit callused. Calming.
After a minute of this, I said, to myself more than anyone, "Wow, this is like being pampered!" The ladies laughed.
"Okay," said Brianna. "The dye might make you feel a little weird! Some people get hot and flushed, some say it feels like they peed their pants, some people get nauseated. All normal."
I'll puke for sure, I thought to myself.
"I see you got a lot of ink there," said Brianna. "Love it! I want more, but they're so expensive!"
"Oh, I know," I said, my voice echoing around the donut. "It's my favorite hobby, and the most expensive." They chuckled.
"Alright, you all ready? We're gonna start now." Suddenly the bed I was lying on got sucked up into the donut vortex. The inside of the donut was plastic and metal and a disembodied voice kept giving me instructions that I kept messing up:
Please, hold your breath.
I sucked in a big lungful.
You may breath normally.
I kept holding it in case he told me to hold it again.
Please, hold your breath.
I exhaled forcefully.
But suddenly! The bed started backing up.
"All done!" Amy said cheerfully.
I sat up, feeling a little dizzy. "Wow," I muttered. "Don't know why I was so worried."
"You handled it like a pro!" said Brianna. "Here, babe, I'll walk you out."
As we navigated the hallways she asked, "Were you born here? Have you always lived here?"
"Indeed," I said. "Born and raised. They DO call it the Land of Entrapment."
And then we were in the lobby and I was free!
The most painful part was the $350 copay.
The other day on Facebook I posted a truthful albeit whiny rant that people should only have to go through certain amount of sickness, illness and injury- when they get to that quota, they should get to live the rest of their lives in healthy peace!
I was just feeling sorry for myself... I know lots of people have it WAY worse than I do.
It's just... asthma, allergies, depression, schizoaffective disorder, OCD, blood problems, and now a lump in my neck??? Jeez.
But I'm sorry to be dramatic. I have no IDEA what is in my neck. It's probably a nothing. These bodies... tricky business!
But like I said earlier, everything ELSE is great! Good combo of meds right now, hell, even my cholesterol is perfect. And when I got my teeth cleaned, I was praised!
This is my favorite time of year and I'm working on writing, and its just...
good.
Thanks, guys
Sarah
