Learning to Wait Well

Waiting. We all have to do it. We wait in lines at restaurants, ticket counters, restrooms, traffic lights, the DMV (substitute any government office here), amusement parks — you get the idea. That's where I am at this moment — waiting. I'm waiting for my visit with Dr. Pasvolsky tomorrow at 11:20, where I hope to get answers to several questions I have about test results that only he can interpret for me. For the most part, I feel positive.

On my visit to the lab yesterday, the phlebotomist took 11 vials of blood, so I knew my team ordered some additional tests. One that I have already reviewed is called a serum immunofixation test. The pathologist's note caught my attention:

"The follow-up serum immunofixation electrophoretic patterns obtained…cannot completely rule out the presence of a residual IgA kappa monoclonal gammopathy."

Try not to read too much into it, Kelly, I tell myself. But several reports mention "Follow-up studies recommended," and that phrase always makes me pause. The recommended tests are to measure proteins in my blood and urine, like the Bence-Jones protein study. I'm pretty sure someone on my team already ordered that one because I start a 24-hour urine collection tomorrow morning.

Many of these results, including the bone marrow biopsy, won't be available until after I get back home to Florida. My medical care will transfer back to Dr. Joudeh and APRN Sherry at The Woodlands, and I know they will carefully monitor my progress. If another trip to Houston is required, we'll make it.

A bright spot in my day today was my telephone appointment with Jessica Tilton, RD — the dietician who checks in periodically to see how I'm doing. Like everyone at MD Anderson, she's warm and personable. She asked about my appetite and what I'd been eating. I told her about my "obsession," as John put it, with Tex-Mex during the first few weeks we were here — about the only food that appealed to me.

"We don't have Mexican food that tastes like what y'all have here," I told her. Unfortunately, like my white blood count, my appetite has gone up and down like a roller coaster. Most days nothing sounds good to me at all except maybe chocolate cake with fudge icing. (For the record, Randall's grocery store makes an excellent one.)

Jessica also reviewed some numbers — particularly my weight. When she told me that I had lost nine pounds, I told her that was good news to me because I had wanted to drop ten or fifteen. Then she mentioned that four of those pounds disappeared in just one week — possibly a sign of malnourishment. Me? Malnourished? Even when I don't feel like eating, I try to drink a Boost or eat some cottage cheese and peaches. Mac & cheese has also been a regular comfort food, and I’ve made it in our hotel at least twice — so I wasn’t too concerned. She wasn’t either.

Before we ended our call, she gave me a terrific tip on where to find a great chicken fried steak. “There’s a little restaurant in Sugar Land called Live Oak Grill,” she said. “It’s not fancy — you order at the counter and pick it up when it’s ready — but the food is really good.”

So John and I drove to Sugar Land, about twenty-five minutes away, and had an early dinner at the Live Oak Grill. It was delicious — and probably covered my recommended caloric intake for the day. Thank you, Jessica.

These are the things I will miss about Houston: the wonderful medical professionals at MD Anderson and the good food — when my appetite briefly revives. But for now, I wait. Waiting used to feel like wasted time. Lately, I’m learning it’s just another form of faith in motion. What can one do but take one day at a time? Besides, tomorrow isn't promised, so every time I start feeling impatient, I consider the words of Jesus:

“So do not worry about tomorrow; for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own." ~ Matthew 6:34