C is for

Today we finally had Paul's appointment with the hematologist, 6 weeks after discovering the blood clots.

She went through Paul's medical history, examined him, and laid out the information as she saw it.

There are three possibilites for a cause of the clot:

Most likely - Carrying in 70 pounds worth of IKEA boxes a week before our hospital visit caused an injury to the blood vessels in his shoulder, resulting in the clot (I brought this up the last thing before we left - since Paul didn't mention it - and the doctor seemed extremely relieved by this and hopeful that it was the cause rather than the other two or some unknown factor).

Possible - He had high Antiphospholipid Antibodies in his blood. The levels were higher than normal but not so high as to indicate anything certain. This could potentially indicate a blood disorder that led to the clot or it could be normal fluctuations. He is having the levels re-tested in April and September to see if his levels are consistently high, usually higher, or if that was an anomaly caused by the blood thinner injection at the hospital.

Least likely - Possible cancer in the pelvis or abdomen - he has an appointment for a pelvic/abdominal ultrasound in April.

He will be on blood thinners until at least October, which is when we go back to see her. He is allowed to start being more active, but still no lifting and no contact sports - nothing that is hard on his arms.

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It always amazes me the impact of the C word. Cancer. It chills us to our marrows, flushes us with panic, and makes us cling tighter to our loved ones. Cancer is larger than life and even though it was the least likely option, it was the one that both of us fixated on.

Everyone has a cancer story: a lump, a mole, a lost friend or family member. Someone who fought to the end, someone who lingered too long, someone lost too suddenly, or someone who fought it and won. There is nothing good about cancer, no hidden benefit or positive side effect. You wouldn't wish it on your worst enemy, even on your worst day.

The scariest thing about it is that it's an overgrowth of the very cells that make up your body. It's not an outside invader, it's your own body turning against you, out of control with growth. To defeat it, you have to kill or remove a part of yourself, surgical sectional suicide. Cancer is synonymous with terror, which seems irrational but sometimes isn't.

I guess you know you're grown up when C is not for cookie anymore.