The Call

Once again - at work - I get a call from my surgeon's office. Like at 8 o'clock at night. That seems odd.

"Mr. Ryan, the results from your biopsy came back and you have been diagnosed as having (in slow motion) Fo-lli-cu-lar Lym-pho-ma."

BA-BOOM. 

I have a legit form cancer. (Note: Typing this made me start crying. I guess I do have feelings.)

She then tried to argue with me about who my oncologist was and I was not having it. Dr. Summers set me up with Dr. Weiss and THAT is who I was going to see.

I told my friend Kate about my ailments. Kate has had to deal with many severe health issues and I have always admired her spirit. She is a true warrior and gave me some of the best advice I have ever gotten. She said:

#1 - MOST IMPORTANT - STAY OFF THE INTERNET. 

#2 - Trust your doctor and ask him every question you have.

#3 - It never hurts to get a second opinion.

I ignored #1 and regretted it instantly. Life Expectancy? What the fuck? Am I Stage 1 or Stage 4? My head started swimming and I nearly fainted. I turned of my computer and ran and hid under my comforter. Nothing can hurt me under the comforter, right?

RIGHT?

I came back to my senses and turned my asshole of a computer back on.

I had my appointment with my oncologist set for the following Monday and I was hoping that he wasn't as aloof as Dr. Studmuffin.

Fate is a funny little bitch and my story takes a turn for the better.