Decisions. Decisions.

When I was given the diagnosis my husband and I made the decision to inform only those very close to us. It was almost Christmas and I didn’t want to ruin the celebration of the season for anyone.

My parents and brother and sister knew. I had contacted my mother in Canada after the first mention of leukemia. 

I think I was hoping she could make it go away. She was my Mom, after all.

My father-in-law lived close by and had helped look after our kids while we were at the doctor's so he knew everything that was going on. 

And my really good “go to friend” who had watched my kids that first day knew. She actually knew more than anyone because, as I said before, she was a nurse and when I told her my white blood count was "so high...something like over 100,000", she very calmly said, "oh, maybe you just have a really bad infection."

Because that's what really good friends do. But she knew. Before I knew. 

Post Christmas

I'm putting it lightly when I say the week between Christmas and New Year’s Day was kind of like being in a funky fog. I was still the mom my kids needed and loved but I had taken on this new character even I didn't know how to play. No script. No director. I knew we would have to start making phone calls to other family members and friends. My husband has nine siblings and that was a tough one for him. For me I was torn. One part of me felt this great need to tell the world but another part of me felt so badly for having to share such awful news. How was this going to make everyone else feel?

“Happy New Year? Guess what?”

Not so much. Maybe I could sit on it for a while.

Confused.

Disoriented.

My safety net became changing a diaper, playing a game and reading a bedtime story. That's what I loved to do the most.

The more we talked about the diagnosis the more we thought about getting another opinion. We felt like we needed to do something more. It just didn't feel right to accept what we'd been told. We talked about the doctor whose name I can’t remember, the one who gave me the ominous news. [Refer to my December 20 post.] Our conversation at the time had gone something like this:

“So, is there a cure for leukemia?”

“No. You need to take this medication immediately.”

“And then?”

“You need a bone marrow transplant.”

“Have you had any patients who have had a bone marrow transplant?”

“No.”

“Do you have any experience with bone marrow transplants?”

“No.”

"Do you know anyone who has had a bone marrow transplant?"

"No."

Hmm. Okay then.

So, upon remembering and rehashing said conversation we thought just maybe it might be a good idea to get a second opinion.

An appointment was made with an oncologist who came highly recommended to us and I have to say I was feeling optimistic. Yep, so optimistic that we decided that my husband would stay home with the kids and I would go to this appointment by myself. I don't know how we actually came to make that decision but somehow it seemed like it was the okay thing to do. Little did we know. 

Last time we ever made that decision.

My world was about to come crashing down around me. 

I do remember that doctor's name.