To My Readers, This is going to be an amazing, emotional series about going through the journey of Cancer. Written by my friend, Marianne Abbott, this series will make you laugh, make you angry, and make you cry. I hope that through reading this that you will all learn to live! LIVE HAPPY! Leave your work at the office, take your family on a surprise day trip to the beach, put off cleaning the house and have a cup of tea with the elderly woman down the street. Make a new friend today. Pay for the meal of the family behind you in the drive thru. Smile - You?’ll be surprised how good it makes you feel and you may never know what a simple smile may have done for a passer-by. Spend time with those who matter, and let the little stuff melt away. Because in the end, all that matters is family, and friends and knowing that you loved others and they loved you back. Each week I will feature more of this compelling story.
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Helluva set-up, Ashton...now what's the punch line???
Current mood: worried
We have sort of a running joke in our family, one I love to tell for effect and as soon as I begin the first line, everyone groans and knows what's coming next. They all know the punch line, and aside from my ex-husband, who actually becomes laughably violent at the retelling of this joke(he's heard it a million times and thinks it's the dumbest joke ever), everyone will indulge me and let me continue and we all always love the cheesy ending because it's so dumb that it's funny.
It starts, "Three ropes walk in to a bar..."
(Did you hear that? someone groaned...I heard it...) But have you ever heard a joke that just keeps you wondering where it ends and when it will finally get funny because, well, it's just....not? Lori had to be rushed to the emergency room at 4 am, Friday morning, as she woke me up having a major seizure of some sort, freaking OUT and scaring the hell out of both of us. After the first round of testing, the first set up: She has had a stroke. 43 years old. Picture of health. Stroke victim. So of course, there is more testing: let's find out why. Set up #2: Saturday: Doctors do lots of tests. CAT, MRI, EEG, EKG...if it goes by initials, they've done the test. We're at the hospital all day with Lori. We wait patiently, then not so patiently, for test results. At 9pm, I finally leave, all of us concluding that there would be no answers tonight. Right after I leave and Lori is completely alone, the doctors come in and tell her she has a tumor in her brain. Then they tell her that "...we don't know what kind of tumor it is but we'll do more testing tomorrow. Get some sleep." WTH? Sunday: Full upper body CAT and MRI, this time with dye to map the vascular system and get a full comprehensive view of the situation. I ream two separate doctors for their lack of couth in handling the night before's little warm-up act. But they have another act in store for us: CONT ON PG 7
DAD
CONT FROM PG 6
Set up #3: Two tumors in her brain, one on each side. Left one in the speech center, right one in the motor skills controlling the left side of the body. Almost positive there is another tumor, a primary, that is metastasizing but won't know until they get a specialist to read the MRI, because they aren't the 'readers', they are the 'doers'. We pitch a major fit and get the neuro surgeon to call his friend, the radiologist , to come in briefly on his day off to view the results and give a preliminary finding. He tells us that this is 'privileged information' that the doctors haven't yet received because they had not yet reviewed the films and that we'll have to wait to be told 'officially', after they read the results. So the new 'unofficial' total for Sunday: The Bears and the Colts are in the Superbowl and Lori now has THREE tumors with the Primary being in the lung., we now have sizes on the two in the brain, 1.5cm for the one in motor skills, and slightly smaller for the one in speech. No word on the size of the one in the lung. Yet.
Monday:
Today's new word for the day: Cancer.
Cancer. Cancer. Cancer. Cancer.Cancer,Cancercancercancercancer.
Bad.Cancer.
Setup #4: EEG, Bone scan, and Xanax.
Verdict: it's a Lymphoma cancer. Stage IV. Name still unknown.
Word for tomorrow so you can practice: Bronchoscopy.
So, I'm wondering...Exactly when does the punch line happen? Because the timing on this joke is WAY OFF. Ashton Kutcher better come strolling through the door to tell me I've been punk'd because so far, this crap ain't at ALL funny.
By Marianne Abbott
IN LOVING MEMORY OF LORI A. GORDON
FEBRUARY 28, 1963 - SEPTEMBER 29, 2007