I had my first official hematologist appointment today.
Going there was…tough. I thought it would be hard because it was another piece of the “it’s always something” for us to deal with. But it wasn’t hard just because of that. It was hard because the hematologists are typically associated with oncology care. Walking into a room full of people in the throes of cancer…well, it’s a mixture of inspiration, sadness, hope and fear.
I’m a big believer that my hurt – our hurt – isn’t worse or better or harder or lighter than someone else’s. Being in a room that is full of the beast that is cancer – the not knowing how things will turn out, the intensive treatments, the emotional impact of it – it intensifies your emotions tenfold. Because everyone in that room is suffering. They’re just suffering in different ways.
Anyway: I’ve been waiting to say anything around here, but I was diagnosed with Factor V Leiden last week – it’s a clotting disorder that likely led to us losing Addison. I don’t know all of the details yet, just that there are more tests and screenings that we have to go through to make sure I don’t have any clots in my body right now.
The good news is that we have an answer, at least partially. And that this is a somewhat manageable thing. The risk of producing a clot is much worse when there is more estrogen in my body – which means, for one, a lot more monitoring during our next pregnancy.
It means a lot more doctors appointments, more ultrasounds and a daily shot of a blood thinner in my belly. That I have to give to myself. I’m not totally crazy about this part of it…but in all honesty, it’s not the end of the world. I can definitely handle giving myself a daily shot if it means less worry. Yes.
Knowing this much more than we knew two weeks ago makes me feel like at least part of this weight has been lifted. We’ve been living so long going doctor’s appointment to doctor’s appointment, not scheduling ourselves much beyond that. And that, my friends, is no way to live. It’s made it a lot harder to keep moving forward when we’re stuck in a state of limbo.
But now we have this tangible thing that makes our situation less scary. It doesn’t make it ok, it doesn’t make it go away – it just makes it a little easier to move forward. To plan our life. To actually know that this isn’t the end and at some point, we will be through the “always something else” way we’ve been living lately.
And I’m grateful for that.