My tough adventure continued.
After I finally came to the Hospital K (you can find in Part IV), and the nice nurse made it happened that I saw my husband that late at night, he brought me some stuff from home, even though I received everything possible from the hospital at the moment. We talked for some time, I brought him up to speed as much as I could, we separated till morning.
My state was still of absolute shock and lack of understanding of what was going on with me. I was in a hospital gown with lots of cords coming out of me, three of them at least connected to some bags, not in a way you’d think they would, they appeared to be to the cuts under the lungs and the heart sack for collecting the rest of the liquids, and some to this beeping machine, I saw in the movies before %). Meanwhile, nurses brought me some broth and tea, and a small sandwich and tried to persuade me to have at least some.
Later, when I ate some broth, seeing that I was still in the complete state of loss, nurses tenderly but firmly helped me to get to sleep, and repeated many and many times (and were right to do so) to call them. Call them if I need to stand up or to go to the toilet or if I’m thirsty, or need anything at all. Because it worked and even in my groggy painful state during my sleep that night, I remembered asking them for help.
In the morning I had a chance to finally look around and see, where I was. The room was quite spacious with my medical bed and a type of “medical” table beside it. There was a nice area with the light azure armchair with footrest and an extra chair. And there was some cabinet, which appeared to be the extra bed later. The windows were huge, almost wall-size, and the ceiling was quite high too. There was a door, which I knew was a bathroom after the last night. Everything looked perfect and clean and shiny.
Soon came in new nurses and introduced themselves. They checked up on some vitals and my bandages, then asked what would I’d like to have for breakfast. Doctors were supposed to come over a little bit later, they said.
I still felt exhausted and sick, so I was dreaming away from time to time in my bad waiting. My husband appeared after some time, whom I was very glad to see. Right after the group of doctors appeared. They explained in greater detail the surgery and the urgency with that. To sum it up, liquid collected in the areas around my heart and under my lungs. The liquid around the lungs didn’t allow me to have a proper breath and fill the lung with a sufficient amount of air. While the most dangerous liquid in the sack around my heart was pushing on it interfering with its work and, with the insufficient amount of air, the heart tried to go faster to deliver the oxygen needed to the body. That combination was dangerous to my life. That led to the health condition where the liquids had to be sucked out immediately.
They saved my life there, I suppose.
– We tested the liquid we collected, said one of the doctors, and there are the signs of malignant cells in there, which caused your condition. To make sure we need to take a biopsy.
I think here the world had stopped for a moment. I found it hard to process this information. I do not remember who, probably my husband asked, where the tumor is supposed to be located, where they are taking the biopsy from – they said that its mediastinum in the thorax, o, basically, lungs.
We asked how sure are they about the tumor? And the doctors said that unfortunately, they are quite sure.
Holding hands, we decided to postpone panicking until the results of the biopsy would come, begging for some luck that they are totally wrong. That was pretty much all that was going on in my head. I was dreading another thing at that time – it was time to tell parents, what was going on.
We didn’t talk for a week or so at that point. First time I called they couldn’t talk, and then called a bit later on Skype. With video. Seeing me in the hospital gown the first thing they shout out, have you been in a car accident. And I was left with the thought that this is the worst they could think of, and now I need to tell them, that I’m much worse.
Next day they took me to take the biopsy. The very nice Russian-speaking bearded doctor was performing it. He explained the procedure and also about the place of mediastinum and thorax. He took a couple of samples from the right side of my chest with the small biting tool, then bandaged the small cut and let me be. The results should be expected in 3 days! THREE!
Meanwhile, I underwent one more surgery, when they moved the under-the-heart catheter to get more liquid and sucked out some more of it from all other “pockets”. And get final treatments in that department.
Almost all the time my dear husband was with me and he also stayed the nights! But at this moment I appeared to be alone. Three days after the biopsy, three doctors walked in and one of them was introduced as an oncologist. They said that the diagnosis was confirmed and I have a ROS1 mutation of cancer. It’s actually good, said the oncologist, because it’s rare and has more direct treatments, which we can start immediately. I didn’t ask anything at all. I didn’t feel anything then. I just said: “let’s start treatment, what can we do?” The treatment appeared to be just a pill! The medication based on crizotinib.
Since I didn’t ask any questions – the doctors left, promising to order the medication.
I called my husband and my family to deliver the final news: