![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
iamomI'm robbing part of this entry from an e-mail I just wrote to Jerry.
My dad left this morning and my mom's leaving this afternoon. B's dad John arrives tomorrow night for 2 weeks, and then we'll be free from company for awhile. Two days ago, I subtly suggested a revision to my mom's original itinerary, which saw her depart on Sunday, leaving B and I without a single moment alone together in the absence of family visits.
Yesterday could have gone better. It was my first visit to the hematologist who will be overseeing my treatment going forward. They still haven't been able to determine the subtype of lymphoma I have, and we can't begin treatment until the subtype has been revealed. My biopsies have been sent to the NIH in Bethesda for further analysis, and we expect to receive the results by this time next week.
The reason they can't determine my subtype in Halifax is because it's probably a rare one. But rarity is not necessarily a precursor to a worse outcome. It just means that fewer people have it. My understanding is that many of the rarer lymphomas are treated similarly to the more typical ones anyway: in my case, almost certainly some chemo and some radiation, both of which will likely start within the next couple of weeks.
It's also clear that I'm receiving the best level of care imaginable, and this puts the odds in my favour dramatically. B personally is also a huge asset to my care (and my own sanity!). In addition to being a solid and loving partner to me, she has already begun studying current journal articles about my suspected subtype.
Anyway, I'm still confident that everything will turn out as it should. But of course, how could it anything turn out other than how it should? :) It's one of those essential realities of the universe that we can't avoid.
My dad left this morning and my mom's leaving this afternoon. B's dad John arrives tomorrow night for 2 weeks, and then we'll be free from company for awhile. Two days ago, I subtly suggested a revision to my mom's original itinerary, which saw her depart on Sunday, leaving B and I without a single moment alone together in the absence of family visits.
Yesterday could have gone better. It was my first visit to the hematologist who will be overseeing my treatment going forward. They still haven't been able to determine the subtype of lymphoma I have, and we can't begin treatment until the subtype has been revealed. My biopsies have been sent to the NIH in Bethesda for further analysis, and we expect to receive the results by this time next week.
The reason they can't determine my subtype in Halifax is because it's probably a rare one. But rarity is not necessarily a precursor to a worse outcome. It just means that fewer people have it. My understanding is that many of the rarer lymphomas are treated similarly to the more typical ones anyway: in my case, almost certainly some chemo and some radiation, both of which will likely start within the next couple of weeks.
It's also clear that I'm receiving the best level of care imaginable, and this puts the odds in my favour dramatically. B personally is also a huge asset to my care (and my own sanity!). In addition to being a solid and loving partner to me, she has already begun studying current journal articles about my suspected subtype.
Anyway, I'm still confident that everything will turn out as it should. But of course, how could it anything turn out other than how it should? :) It's one of those essential realities of the universe that we can't avoid.
