The Phone Call

Thursday morning, the phone rang. My doctor's office showed up in the caller ID. They couldn't have my bloodwork back already; my PA said it might take a week because of the holiday. I answered the phone apprehensively. A friend from church and a nurse for one of the doctors said that the doctor wanted to talk to me and Roger today. I asked what time, and she said as soon as we could get there. I hung up the phone and fought panic. I was thinking maybe diabetes or even renal disease.

When we got to the doctor's office, they took us directly to an exam room through the exit instead of the waiting room.  We found some magazines to read to try to distract ourselves from our feelings of impending doom. We had to wait for the doctor to finish with a patient, and the wait was interminable.  Finally, he came in and I think he was even more nervous than we were. He asked how we were doing. How do you answer that question in that situation? I knew he was about to tell us how I was doing, and it wasn't as well as I thought. Then he asked if we had any questions. Yes: Why are we here?!  Finally, he got down to business. When a lab gets a critical reading, they have to notify the doctor's office immediately instead of waiting for all the results to be completed. LabCorp had called our doctor's office that morning because my white blood cells were in the critical range. The faxed report showed a reading of 317 (measured in thousands). I didn't know what normal was, but critical range was written in bold italics. Two words came into my mind: infection and leukemia. The second was too much to even consider so I pushed it back and said infection. The doctor said that if I had an infection with a wbc count that high, I would be laid out prostrate, not on my feet. He finally said the dreaded word: We think it's a leukemia-type thing.

Tears came to my eyes and he handed me a box of tissues. I continued fighting panic. He was a family doctor, not an oncologist. It looked bad, but this was not an official diagnosis. Maybe it was all a big mistake. They had already made an appointment for me with an oncologist at 3:30 that afternoon.

As we left the doctor's office, I told Roger that I needed to go to the office and get my computer and some files. It was the last day of the month, and I needed to work and boost my hours, but clearly I wasn't going to work in the office. We called home to let Rebekah and Katie know we were going to run down to the office, but we'd be home soon.

I called my oldest sister because she'd been severely anemic when she was around my age. I asked her if her white blood cells had been high then. She said no. I told her mine were 317. She said normal is 5-10 thousand so yours are a little low. I said no, they're 317, not 3.17. She asked incredulously, "317 thousand?????" I said yes. The shock in her voice followed by silence spoke volumes. I left a message for another sister. 

At the office, the receptionist took one look at me and asked if everything was okay. I teared up and told her they think I have leukemia. She hugged me and asked if there was anything she could do. Before we left, she wrote her cell phone number on one of her business cards and handed it to Roger.

I grabbed a few files and papers to delegate to other people since I knew there was a possibility I wouldn't be in the office for a while. I put a couple of files in a box to bring home and put my laptop in its case. A CPA who had been at lunch came in, hugged me, and murmured how sorry she was. Both partners were at lunch. I felt like I should tell them something, but yet I had nothing but possibilities and uncertainties to share at that point.

My cell phone rang and it was my second sister. She had talked to our older sister and was crying. Again, this was not a good sign. She gave me her fax number and told me to fax her the lab report. When I talked her later at home, she said the doctor she works for said it's probably either leukemia or multiple myeloma.

On the drive home, Roger and I dealt with leukemia the way we deal with most things: humor. Between tears and conversation about wills, jobs, homeschooling, and guardianship (in case I died and then something happened to him too), we cracked cancer jokes and laughed. We stopped at Chick-Fil-A to get lunch since we were both starving. I ate a few waffle fries, but I couldn't eat my sandwich in spite of my hunger.

We decided not to tell the kids anything until we had more information. In order to avoid having to offer explanations, we decided that I would go alone to my oncologist appointment so that Roger could drive the girls to their planned activities and pick Rachel up from work on time.

At home, I turned on my computer and checked my office email, but I couldn't concentrate to do anything else productive. I just wanted my appointment time to arrive so that we could get some answers and move on with whatever would come next.