It's my birthday and I can barely believe it. I remember sitting in the lobby of the tuberculosis clinic seven months ago waiting to talk to a respitologist. I don't remember the exact date (although I'm certain I could figure it out if I tried) but I remember it was a Thursday. I know it was a Thursday because the week leading up to the Thursday I had an x-ray and blood tests on Monday; an ECG test, more blood tests, and an appointment with my family doctor on Tuesday; an echocardiogram, muga/stress test, and more blood tests on Wednesday; and then a squeezed-in appointment with the respitologist on a Thursday before my CT scan on Friday and before his two-week vacation that started on Sunday. Obviously this was the week where my tumour was discovered, also known as hell week.
However, the reason why my visit with the respitologist was so significant is because when I sat in his office talking to him, or maybe I should say crying to him, he told me not to worry. He was the first person to tell me that no matter what it was he believed it was treatable and although he didn't believe it was cancerous, he was sure that even if it was, it would be treatable. He then went on to ask me when my birthday was and when I told him it was January 12th he said, "okay well don't worry, you're going to make it to your next birthday!" I laughed and smiled at the time but when he said that to me I didn't really believe him. I wanted to believe him, I just didn't. Yet, here I am, celebrating my next birthday.
Also, I didn't want to put this next picture at the top of my blog but I can't look at it and not laugh so I hope you enjoy it as much as I do :)
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