It is incredible how much emotion and anticipation comes with a
knock at the door while waiting in an exam room. Lately at school, we have been
testing out in clinical settings and play the role of the provider. Naturally
this includes knocking on the door prior to entering. Pure instinct. Yet, regardless
of which side of the door you are on, that all too familiar sound can evoke
every emotion.
Today that knock held the results of a full day of blood
work, tests, and scans completed yesterday. (I knew the results of my labs
prior to the appointment as I had logged into my patient account early this
morning. But, my radiology reports had not been posted yet—probably a good
thing.) Also, I had a pretty good sense of things after my ultrasound
yesterday. It is obvious when the technician finds something concerning because
her mannerisms change, and so do the sounds on the machine. And being the
inquisitive (sneaky, really) person I am, I bluntly asked her if my thymus was
still enlarged; knowing full well she cannot disclose that information. We had
a brief discussion, mostly me answering her vague yet obvious questions, and
that was it. Poor woman. She was doomed the minute she was assigned to me.
Disclaimer: I promise I am a very
kind and respectful patient, just sometimes a little too smart for my own good!
Anyway, I left knowing my thymus was definitely still present.
Which brings me to today. That knock. Surgery? Lymphoma?
Thymoma? Chemo? None of the above? All very possible differentials.
This is about how it went:
(Knock,
Knock)
Dr.
Dean: “Good morning, Keri. It’s good to see you again.”
Me:
“Good morning Dr. Dean. It’s good to see you too.”
Dr.
Dean: “Let’s go over things."
(Still
no indication either way of the results! She’s a tough one.)
“It turns out 11/12/13 is your
day. Things look great! You are what we call a ‘Mother Mayo Miracle.’
Me:
“Wait. What?”
Dr.
Dean: “You are a ‘Mother Mayo Miracle!’ Your labs are right where I want them, and your CT
and Ultrasound show improvement.”
Me:
“So my thymus has gone down? But what about it showing up on the Ultrasound?”
Dr.
Dean: “It is still there but has not enlarged further and has decreased in size. It has proven well to hold
on surgery and just observe. Our ‘Mother Mayo
Miracle.”
We went on to discuss the various symptoms I have been
experiencing and the potential reasoning behind them. All valid concerns to
monitor, which will take place with various physicians back home. But at the
same time, she could not have been more excited. This tiny but mighty
physician, whom one would never want to cross, was elated! So relieved, so
happy—a complete 180° difference from my appointment prior and during phone
conversations. What this all means, simply stated, is that I have a full
Christmas break to look forward to WITHOUT opening up my chest to take that
bizarre thymus out. (Please pass the tequila, it’s time to celebrate!!!) Such a
relief. Calls to loved ones were made, and cheers + tears of excitement were
the common response. Praise God. Follow-up of my lungs, thyroid bed nodules,
and thymus will continue. But we are strictly in watch mode. And that is a
beautiful thing!
I have never thought about what it would be like to be a
“Mother Mayo Miracle.” But I do know it is a title I will happily accept! But I
didn’t do anything. Sure I have altered my diet significantly in the past 4
months, throwing every helpful aid my immune system’s way. Along with my daily
workouts and appropriate vitamins and minerals. But even so, things have not
been ideal on a daily basis. So you see, I am not the ‘Miracle.’ It is you. Your
prayers. And the love of God above. Your constant compassion and support, and
His unfailing promise, have earned the title of “Mother Mayo Miracle.” And for
that, I am most grateful. Those daily gratitude posts on social media
throughout the month of November? That is all fine and dandy. But sorry guys, I
win.
11/12/13: I am
grateful for being a “Miracle.”
xoxo,
Keri Ellen
