1. Singing the calendar song with my Kindergarteners today taught me that tomorrow is May 1st. The start of the month that my labs are drawn again, and the verdict is decided. How it has almost been two months since my visit to Mayo Clinic is beyond me. And I'm afraid life is not about to slow down...at all.
2. The school I was substitute teaching at today was my old elementary school, and many of the incredible teachers I had back in the day, are still there. Naturally, we spent time catching up and having the "Where are you these days? What is your plan? How have you been?" conversations. I guess that also prompted me to sit down and spend a little time posting.
But what about? I don't have much to update health-wise. The only thing that has changed is I was diagnosed with viral pneumonia a week ago. I had been fighting something for quite a few days, and I knew it wasn't my standard sinus infection. After four days of having my students ask me if they could call me "Mr. Simonds" or "Kermit the Frog," I decided I should probably get in and get some meds. After my appointment, I was reminded of exactly why I had been putting off the clinic in the first place. Because of my health history, nothing is "routine" anymore. For example. I should have been able to just waltz right in, go through an H&P, have a chest x-ray, review the diagnosis, and pick my meds up at the pharmacy. Piece of cake. However, that was not the case. All of that happened, except after going over the diagnosis, it was decided I should be sent to the hospital for a body scan--checking for any possible clots or other unusual findings in relation to the cancer based on my symptoms. Oh, joy. I quick ran back to the middle school where I was teaching, finished a couple more classes, and went over to the hospital after school. (Not at all what I had planned that day.) The nurse was reviewing the process, I told her I was used to it, no questions. Until she was inches away from putting in an IV. "Excuse me, ma'am. Why are you placing an IV?" It wasn't a standard scan. They needed contrast. I should've known. Ugh. Fine. Here's my arm. Stick me and send me home. But no, that couldn't happen either. I was a "hold and call" case; meaning, I was not allowed to leave until the radiologist read the scan and my doctor reviewed the report. At that point, I kissed my planned afternoon goodbye and read a Martha Stewart magazine in the waiting room instead. (For the record, grey's are the new black.) Finally the results came. All was clear. (Exactly like I knew it would be.) And I was on my merry way to the pharmacy.
But like I said, other than that, nothing has changed. Which is neither good, nor bad. Somewhere around the 10th of this month I will go in for lab work. Mayo won't let anyone else touch the samples, but they are at least letting me get it all drawn here and sent up there for processing. If things are still elevated as suspected, surgery will be scheduled and a plan will be made.
Now on to the reasoning behind the title of this post. After talking with past teachers today, and deciding I should blog, I thought it would be nice to share a little something other than medical updates. Which leads me to my decision last summer to apply to PA (Physician Assistant) school versus medical school, like I had planned on doing since the first vivid memory I have of going to my pediatrician as a child. I could write out my reasonings, but it seems more logical to just share the personal statement I wrote as part of the application process. It explains it all. Additionally, I chose baseball as the overall theme, and considering the season is in full swing, timing is perfect. Enjoy!
Life threw me a
curve ball. It was not Rawlings; instead “cancer” crossed the plate. Like a batter
stands frozen on strike three, time stopped January 9th when my
nurse revealed my pathology report:
“Keri, you do have cancer.” I was taught to refrain from giving
important information after you say the “C” word. I can now say I have
experienced that first hand. I tried to snap out of the trance, but I have no idea
what my nurse said next. Regardless, her words proved powerful enough to change
my life.
Yet
striking out never kept Mickey Mantle from playing. My diagnosis of follicular
and papillary thyroid cancer was not about to hold me back. I informed my
family and close friends, and met with my medical team. Together we created a
game plan. With surgery over, radiation was on deck. Appointments were
scheduled, except there was still one major area to address. My last semester
of college was left blinding me with uncertainty like stadium lights in a
midnight sky.
Most
of my professors understood, but some felt I should withdrawal. Forfeit? That
never crossed my mind. I had one semester between a diploma and myself. Cancer
was not about to prevent that moment. We reached agreement on all I would miss
for appointments and the 2.5 weeks of radiation and “isolation.” Finally plans
were set and it was time to play ball.
The
semester flew by. I spent only two weekends out of sixteen in Lincoln. When I
was around, I was catching up on classes, leadership obligations, and unpacking
only to repack my bags days later. Graduation arrived out of nowhere, and after
the roar of the crowd quieted, I processed everything. The Lord, relationships
with loved ones, and my education have always held greatest importance in my
life. Being diagnosed with cancer undoubtedly reinforced those priorities. I
have been asked what makes me so strong. Simply, I have the greatest coach. God
will never give me something I can’t handle. And no matter how unfortunate a
situation, it can always be worse.
After reflecting,
it was obvious that while I may have inspired others on my journey, it was my
support team that helped reaffirm what truly means most. Going to medial school
did not align right anymore. I always imagined being a doctor, so I’ll admit my
change in heart was unchartered territory. But while that was once a great
aspiration, life, especially now, is about more than numerous years in school
and conducting the latest research. What matters is the relationship you form
with each patient and compassionately helping them fight through the batting slumps
in their lives. I want to be the medical professional that everyone believes in
and loves as much as their family, because that’s how I will treat them. Physician Assistants fit this role as they are well known for connecting with their
patients and providing individualized care. I currently experience this daily at
work. Performing workups and finishing details after the doctor leaves, builds
trust through listening to patients’ concerns and the stressors in their lives.
Each has a unique story, and everyone has hardships or times when life changed
without notice. Simply empathizing and putting a smile on their weary face is
unbeatable.
Additionally, just
as 9 players on the field must work together to succeed, I believe in teamwork
in the medical arena. One thing I appreciate about my job is that if I’m
uncertain, I know help is near. Often coworkers and I discuss assessments and
plans to achieve the greatest result. As a Physician Assistant I will not be
going to a job, but instead a chance to provide hope and the highest level of
care. To achieve that, referrals and consults with specialists may be necessary.
But those are learning opportunities. In the end, it’s about what is best for
the patient. I’m also excited to share my nutritional knowledge. Many diseases
can be prevented with simple lifestyle changes. After majoring in Nutrition, my
confidence in the correlation between a healthy diet and its benefits medically
has only increased. By choosing to be a PA, there’s the chance to implement
more patient guidance.
Again, family will
always be one of my top priorities. As ready as I am to dive into the
miraculous science of human life, I’m just as anxious for the day when I get to
raise little miracles of my own. I cannot think of a better way to have perfect
balance between a rewarding career and the gift of being called “mom," than
what being a Physician Assistant will offer. Driving for field trips, coaching sports
teams, and being there in times of need, are priceless moments that can’t be
taken for granted.
That curveball thrown
at me was a blessing in disguise; the perfect reminder that the game of life is
short, and you have to make the most out of every inning. Majority of things are
not going to be easy, but having faith and supporting teammates, unfortunate
circumstances can be hit deep over the left field fence. I have turned cancer
into a home run.
