48 hours from now
In 48 hours I will be close to landing in New York City. I will go to a hotel, I will have dinner. The next day I will be meeting the head of the Sarcoma clinic at Memorial Sloan Kettering. I will have an MRI, I will find out if I will have a biopsy. I will find out if I have cancer. I will find out when I will have surgery. I will not be coming home right away.
In 41 hours I will tell my husband and children good-bye. The next time I see them I may or may not have my entire arm. I may or may not have my hair. I will have many scars. I will be happy to see them again.
This blog post is short because what I know is so much less than what I don’t know. I could write pages about what I don’t know. I will know more in 72 hours when I see the doctors and have the scan. I probably won’t post again until Tuesday night or Wednesday morning.
The pictures are how big my tumor has grown in three weeks since it was only 5 centimeters. I won’t share more pictures because they will be bloody and frightening, they will be a reflection of my visceral experience, and I prefer to share that in filtered words.
Wish me luck. Send your prayers to my husband and children. Hug your own closest peoples.
This is the Go Fund Me link. (https://www.gofundme.com/manage/tumor-travel) I struggle to share it because I know it makes people without the ability to give money feel badly, but I must admit that my reality makes it necessary to ask. Threats to life and livelihood are so terribly humbling.