Author: Tom Dunn

Events are accelerating. Today, Roslyn and I met the oncologist for the first time. I got another exam, had more blood drawn, and answered a lot of questions. We asked a lot of questions, too. The office’s pathologist is reexamining the microscope slides from last week’s biopsy. The doctor seems excellent so far, and the medical staff are friendly and highly efficient.

I’ll get a PET scan (https://www.uclahealth.org/endocrine-center/pet-scan) in the next week or so. In about ten days, we’ll return to the oncologist to get his diagnosis and treatment plan. Treatment will start a few days after that.

I continue feeling pretty good, though my energy level is a bit lower than usual. Sweating also continues, night and day. I get leg cramps at night, which I attribute to dehydration. I’m taking minerals and drinking lots of low-sugar Gatorade.

Nevertheless, we are looking forward to walking in the Family Services Hunger Walk (https://www.redlandsfamilyservice.org/) tomorrow morning at the University of Redlands. Our church, First Congregational Church of Redlands (http://redlands.church/) has put together a walking team to help people in our community that are hungry or food insecure. It should be a beautiful morning, made more so by the people coming out to the event.

Both Roslyn and I are emotionally stressed, as expected. Thankfully, we are continually amazed by the outpouring of love and offers for assistance from our family, friends, and coworkers. We are truly blessed and grateful for all of you. Thank you.

 

It’s been almost a week since the excision of my lymph node for a biopsy. The two weeks before that are a blur. Actually, so was the past week. A lot of things happened in rapid succession, but for now, I’ll fill you in on the basics.

Three weeks ago, I discovered something I’d not felt before: a lump at the front of my upper right leg, near the hip joint. Some call that area the groin, but that’s not really where it was, but rather a little outboard from there. Anyway, I felt a lump and went to the doctor a day later.

“You have two” he said, referring to the lumps. “I’m going to refer you to a surgeon for a biopsy.”

“What is it?” I asked.

“I can’t say. That’s why you’re going for a biopsy.”

Later, after doing a bunch of reading, it didn’t take long for Roslyn and I to add up the clues and predict this was going to be lymphoma of some kind. And, we were right. Surgery was last Monday morning. When the surgeon called two days later I took notes, writing exactly what he said: “You have lymphoma”. The final pathology arrived the next day. It said in all-caps “FOLLICULAR LYMPHOMA, GRADE 3A, PREDOMINANTLY FOLLICULAR PATTERN”.

I was in my GP’s office when this arrived. Roslyn and I had a list of UCLA oncologists that we researched earlier. We chose one, and the GP’s staff immediately started the referral paperwork.

My consultation with the oncologist is later this coming week. More waiting. But the doctor should be excellent. We’ll see. I’ll know more about the treatment and prognosis after that visit.

I’m feeling pretty good, though my energy level could be better. I’ve got night sweats, which is common for people with lymphoma.

(People like me. That seems so weird.)

A couple more quick things. First, the prognosis for lymphoma is pretty good. This shouldn’t take me down. It won’t be pretty, but I expect to recover from this. The medical staff members that I have encountered thus far are exemplary.

Secondly: THANK YOU to everyone. Every person I’ve spoken with has been kind and supportive. This is a journey, and I appreciate that so many friends and loved ones (especially my kids) and coworkers have shown love and concern and a willingness to help however they can to the point that I am overwhelmed with gratitude. This blog is for all of you.

Finally, to my precious and wonderful wife Roslyn, who has my whole heart and has always: I am so happy you’re here on this journey with me. As I’ve said before, I’m the luckiest guy on the planet.

Thanks for joining me!

Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter. — Izaak Walton