Bone Marrow Biopsy

The nurse from the cancer center was setting up my appointment for the bone marrow biopsy over the phone. After making sure I knew the when and where, she asked if I had any questions. Thinking of the previous biopsy, I asked if I should bring a driver, assuming they would drug me.

"Oh, no," she replied. "You might be a little tender at the site, but you should be able to drive yourself just fine." I was dubious, but OK. I know she told me that the whole procedure would only take about 20 minutes, but I was having a hard time with the no drugs part of it.

Turns out a friend of mine drove me anyways (even though Kiel had offered in an attempt to get out of class). We arrived at Strong early enough to hit the coffee stand, then headed for Suite B in the Wilmot Cancer Clinic. We sat and chatted until they called my name, and I headed through the big door and down the hall, managing the usual check in blood pressure, temperature, weight thing.

This time, instead of an examining room, I was seated in a procedure room. It was a bit intimidating staring at a wall filled with medical equipment - otoscopes, blood pressure cuffs, taps for air and oxygen, probes etc. Over the gurney was a high intensity light on a flexible arm, and on the counter by the sink, a large plastic tub labeled "Bone Marrow Biopsy."

I sat for about ten minutes before a pleasant woman introduced herself as the nurse who would be doing the biopsy for me today. "Did they explain the procedure?" I shook my head. "The doctor only said it was not any worse that what I had already experienced." She laughed. "You sure have been through it, haven't you?" Her eyes sparkled.

She talked me through what would happen, being quite frank about what I would experience. I appreciated that about her. I lay on my tummy and she tucked pads over my blouse and the lowered waistband of my pants.

"You will feel a bit of burning while I give you some lidocaine to numb your skin. Now a bit of a pinch while I do a deeper shot to the top of the bone. And one more - you may feel this shoot down your leg." After a bit of a pause, "You'll feel some pressure while I push the needle into your hip bone," then "here's some pressure while I draw out some fluid. Just breathe short breaths if it hurts too much," and finally, "Now I'll take the piece of bone marrow. It will take me ten seconds - breathe slow and easy and focus on your breathing. Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, f-i-v-e, f--o--u--r, th-r-e-e, two, one - done. Done! We are all set. I'm taking the needle out. Good. Hand me that pressure bandaid (to the lab tech). OK. You did very well. As soon as you feel comfortable, roll over on your back to put some pressure on the area. You didn't have any stitches, but keep the pressure dressing on until tomorrow. Lie still, and I'll be back in a few minutes with your discharge instructions."

Whoosh. She exited. The lab tech asked if I had any blood drawn today, but I didn't. That meant a finger stick and four or five slides, and then she also went out of the room, leaving me alone to mull over the event. Not so bad, really. I felt a bit shaky, but that cleared in a few minutes. The room was cool and quiet and I was facing away from the wall of gear.

One test down, one to go. The nurse returned with the paperwork, gave me a few instructions, and I did indeed wobble out on my own. I could well have driven home, but I was glad my friend was there and I didn't have to deal with driving. My behind was a bit tender. I thought I should have a treat for going through that so bravely - any excuse, right?

At first, I thought I would stop at Russell's and get a soft ice cream cone. Then I thought it might be better not to reward myself with food. So what would I like to get? Ah, a CD! Yes, maybe something by one of my favorite choral groups. Maybe St Olaf Choir or Gloria Dei or Chanticleer. I think I'll check and see who has a new CD out. Yes, it's gonna be a good day.

My friend dropped my at home, and Kiel was back from class. He got lunch, and I just sat in the blue recliner and watched a bit of TV and took a few deep breaths. I have to get to work. Since this is my night to work the evening shift, I didn't even miss work. I just have to hang in there until late. I'm getting used to the double life. By day, a mild mannered (yeah, right) librarian, by off hours, a cutting edge cancer patient. Hum.

Worming Your Way Along

After it rains, the sidewalks and parking lots are littered with the bodies of hundreds of drowned earthworms - long and skinny, fat and short, cut in half, mushed - all of them popped out of the parched earth to escape their toxic environment and to drink deeply of the cooling water. Alas! They become stranded by the hard asphalt and cannot return to the safety of the soft earth.

Today I made my way across campus, tiptoeing gingerly around the dead carcasses, amazed at how many died in the recent deluge. People around me seemed oblivious, their flipflops schlapping the black walkways with careless abandon.

Here and there, a lone worm still wriggled, trying desperately to escape. Millimeter by millimeter they scootched their way slowing, agonizingly, toward the brilliant green grass. You could almost hear them gasping from the heat of the scorching sun.

It was a hopeless cause. I cannot assist all the little wrigglers who need help. It would take more years than I have to give. And most of the wrigglers look too far spent to survive even with help. It would take several armies to work through campus. Just keep walking. Never mind their plight.

And yet.

And yet I feel so helpless. I know the value of a good earthworm. I care nothing for species self regulation through genocide. I see one stalwart fellow too too far from the green, striving to move around a stick. Yes, I will help him. I gently lift him over the twig and place him in the green grass.

I stoop down to see what will happen. At first, he just lay there, not moving. Then slowly, imperceptibly, one end began to burrow down into the rich brown dirt. I hovered over the spot for awhile, until I had to leave. He was more than half way disappeared when I departed.

I wish him and all his kindred well.

Retirements

This year, four esteemed Roberts Wesleyan faculty will retire. I have attend three of the four events so far, each one filled to overflowing with testimonials by those who have labored beside them for decades as well as for a mere semester.

Kind words, lists of accomplishments, appreciative hugs, tears, and general bittersweet celebration of the dedication of people who have poured their lives into the formation of students, into the creation of a proper environment for young lives to be nurtured and mentored and loved.

Rare enough for there to be one person so well regarded by colleagues and students alike, but four! In one place! Amazing. And thought provoking. In this day and age, unique to find someone who has remained for so long in one place and did not end up disgruntled or disrespected.

Even more amazing to hear of the plans for moving into missions work, for traveling to less fortunate corners of the world to continue pouring out their labors to those who need a hand, a bit of support to get on their feet. These people are not retiring! They are changing one career for another. There is no slowing down, only a change of venue.

I am touched by their legacy. Can we who remain live up to their standards, keep the old fashioned ethics going in a world spinning faster than ever? Can we survive as many decades and still be standing much less smiling - or entering into phase 2?

I am not sure I can do that. But I am encouraged that in this environment, perhaps it might be possible to make a difference, to build something solid and enduring and of good quality. Providing the economy doesn't interfere!