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Tell me somethin’ good

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Well as you can probably guess from the picture, the news at Mayo was good this week! That’s me with my amazing team of rockstars: Kathy (the most soothing voice), Kim (the best hugs) and Dr. Pulido (super smart oncologist. Also Einstein). And me? By that point in the day, my eyes had been pretty beat up, plus I was overcome with relief and joy at the good news – so I look kind of drunk. It’s fine, I was so happy I didn’t care. Still don’t. I wore the t-shirt mostly to be cheeky with Dr. P, but it turned out to be a delightful way to interact with everyone at Mayo. When my name was called for my first appointment and I stood to meet the nurse, she excitedly blurted out, “I saw the most amazing rainbow on my way here this morning!” Now, Rich and I left the house at 5:30 am and I had been fasting for my MRI, so I was a little – shall we say groggy? – and I was slow to react. “That’s something good, right?” she insisted. My shirt… “Oh! Yes, rainbows are very good! Thank you!” And so began the “tell me somethin’ good” game at Mayo. Everyone I approached seemed to take it as some sort of a challenge, one that they absolutely wanted to get right for me. Checking in for my blood work, the lady behind the desk earnestly tapped her forehead with her finger while apologetically explaining, “Hang on, I’m trying to come up with a good one!” (She did)

The best one, of course, was from my oncologist – but not before he sent me into a full-on panic first. Typically, by the time I’m sitting in the chair in his room, it’s been a long day. All the tests, all the waiting, all the nerves and emotions come down to this one moment. Waiting for him to come in with results feels like forever, but this time it was especially long. I turned to Rich nervously, “It’s usually not this long. Why is it taking him so long??” He shrugged, because the truth was that yes, it was taking longer than normal, but he was smart enough to know that it might not go well for him if he acknowledged it. “Maybe he had to see another patient,” he offered. But Dr. P. had darted into the room to grab a folder from his desk as we were entering, promising to return as soon as he’d looked at my results – so I knew that wasn’t it. There was only one reason it was taking him longer: my scans showed bad news. This was it, the moment I had been fearing since my diagnosis. I took a deep breath and prayed that I’d be able to handle it with strength and calm.

Suddenly the door burst open to reveal Dr. P. in the doorway, holding his cellphone aloft as it blared the song, Tell Me Something Good by Rufus and Chaka Khan. He grinned and grooved into the room, followed by Kim and Kathy, also smiling broadly and laughing. It took me a half second to comprehend it all… Oh! The news is good! He’s telling me something good! Also, the man can dance! But – good news! “I had to find the song on YouTube,” he said proudly. That’s why it took so long. He wasn’t looking at ominous scans, or rehearsing how he would tell me that I was dying; he was searching YouTube so he could share the good news with a song and dance. I didn’t think I could love the man any more, but there you go.

My tumor has shrunk a bit, and my liver and lungs show no signs of metastases – that’s about as good as it gets, folks. I’ll go back in another 9 months. There was some other stuff, mostly that I might need to get an implant in my eye that releases steroids or something, because the Avastin eye injections aren’t working so well anymore. Totally cringeworthy, yes, but we shall save our cringing for another day. Today, we dance.

But thinking back on my day, and on my nervous moments in the oncologist’s office, I have to wonder: how often is my immediate reaction in a situation to expect the worst? I know it’s a self preservation thing, this bracing for impact when the news could be bad, but sometimes the news surprises us. Sometimes, your oncologist bursts into the room dancing. Sometimes, you get told somethin’ good. I’m going to try to look for that more, even when I’m not wearing my shirt.

As always, thanks for coming along on this journey with me. It’s nice to have company. Have a great weekend, everyone. And look for somethin’ good!

 

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8 thoughts on “Tell me somethin’ good

  1. I literally have tears of joy welling in my eyes reading this. Awesome news!!! So very happy for you and family.

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  2. Jen, you’re a wonderful writer, and your honesty is refreshing. So glad you got good news and I’ll pray that it continues to be good for you.

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  3. Jen – I didn’t have time to read your post until today. Just praising God with you! I think I’ll forgo the dancing and just smile all day! Glory!

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  4. Oh, Jen. I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE you and your blog. You so eloquently capture what anyone who has gone through cancer feels as they try to “keep a stiff upper lip”, remain positive and resume normalcy. I’m also a fan of “Tell Me Somethin’ Good” (both the song and the attitude). Thank you for all you do to inspire the rest of us. Just to let you know, I have tears running down my smiling face right now. Bless you. Cindy Minor

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