Even if happiness forgets you a little bit, never completely forget about it. -Jacques Prévert

I feel as if there are small bits of me everywhere. Like a little tornado or several of them came through my world and left again, leaving in its wake a lot of scattered events and emotions. I can't put them back where they belong because some of them are fleeting with nowhere to belong. They were just reactions to sudden thoughts, realizations, fears, etc.

My husband had two cancerous lesions removed from his bladder a week ago last Thursday. This was cancer that was not supposed to be there, because the urine cytology report stated that it was 'negative for malignancy.' That goes to show you that every test has a very high probability for being wrong. I am beginning not to trust the people that read tests any longer. My gut told me he had cancer. I trust it more.

He was hospitalized last Tuesday with, of all things, shortness of breath. We were at his urologist/surgeon's office for the followup checkup following surgery for the aforementioned cancerous lesions removed from his bladder. It was routine. We had been out at the dog park the day before, and my husband noticed he was very weak. I noticed him being short of breath for the past two weeks or so, but he'd just come up a flight of stairs so I figured that was it, after being so anemic from the chemotherapy, which can happen.

The doctor immediately ordered a wheelchair and sent us to the ER for evaluation. I thought it was a little strange. No one ever told us how serious shortness of breath is, but he explained it's even more when the person just had surgery. Possible pulmonary embolism (blood clot in the lung) is the reason. That is almost certain death if it is not found in time.

Tests happened, days went by, no cause of the shortness of breath was found, but he DID have a positive d-Dimer result. That is the thing they look for that tells them there might be a blood clot present.

Okay... some personal history: Here is a wiry by nature but now a bit chunky 58 year old man that smoked for 43 years, got cancer in his kidney out of the blue (and it was a goofy place for this cancer because it was technically bladder cancer, not kidney cancer - urothelioma) who is very healthy otherwise - no heart problems we know of, low blood pressure, fair cholesterol - a tad high but nothing serious - and he doesn't smoke or drink (expect on our anniversary or holidays when we splurge and share some cognac with friends). Now he is short of breath.

Okay, they did an echocardiogram on his very healthy heart and found something odd. A mass of unknown origin. It does not appear to be doing anything, or causing trouble, but now he has a new doctor to add to his group - a very smart lady cardiologist. He has to go regularly and have these little tests done to watch 'the mass' and decide if he needs surgery to have it removed. Even if he did, he couldn't right now due to the chemo, which has destroyed his bone marrow. He isn't strong enough. However, I'm wondering, and so is the cardiologist, if this could be a cancerous tumor. Possibly spread from the kidney? The chemo is supposed to be targeting any growths of cancer from the original site, and if it has worked, the tumor should be destroyed, and shrink to nothing. In a perfect world, that is.

We will see.

He got two pints of blood, and is so much better now. Not so pale and no more shortness of breath. He has two more rounds of chemo to go in this series, though, so it could come back. He has surgery to remove the atypical cells and any of their wicked siblings in the kidney early next month. We are optimistic, but then we have not talked to his nephrologist (kidney specialist) yet. He may freak. Still... without the cancer removed, he can't safely live. Without the kidney, he can live on dialysis, but what kind of quality of life is that? We have relatives (and wonderful, beautiful neighbors and friends) that are standing in line to offer him a kidney. I would offer him one of mine too if it was a match. I am just wondering about that mass in the heart.

Worry. Dread, Fear. I feel so many things. I am waiting for things to come back together in our life. There was a time when all we needed was a cup of coffee and a back porch and the sunrise to watch together in the morning, after making love all night long. Such a beautiful life we have known. I am NOT ready to see it end.

God in heaven, I pray for this man, for his doctors, and for our future. Right now, we really do need a miracle, in so many ways.

Thank you for reading, and for caring.

Be blessed.