And a “fatty liver” too? Seriously!?

So after weeks of emotional ping-pong, why exactly am I so offended by the last thing my oncologist said at our meeting last Friday….”oh, and you have a bit of a fatty liver.”  Seriously? So apparently my current way of coping  with cancer (eating anything with sugar as a main ingredient) is no longer a really viable option. Who knew?

As it turns out “fatty liver” is a real thing – and it has nothing to do with how well your butt looks in your jeans.  (I know. I asked.) In the past it was something that was most often related to alcoholism.  (No comments from anyone who knew me in my college days required here.)  In any case, it is best treated by a Mediterranean diet and no sugar.  (I have to note here that I have looked at the ingredients list on what I thought of as my healthy foods and discovered that sugar is high on the list – although in my defense, most of them contain “organic” sugar. Apparently, organic doesn’t make it any healthier.  Again, who knew?)

Besides the “fatty liver” comment, the meeting went as well as a “chat” with your oncologist can go, I guess.  The results from my CT scan on Tuesday showed plenty of enlarged lymph nodes in the trunk of my body.  Unlike my fatty liver, they are apparently all on the small size – the largest being just over 2 cm.  To provide perspective, lymph nodes at 5 cm or more are an indicator for starting chemo treatments.  Oddly…to my new way of thinking, this is good news.  I’ll have more blood tests in two months and meet with her again to reassess the situation.  No treatments needed at this point – which was the high point of the meeting.  And so it goes…..

It’s been a week of emotional highs and lows.  I suspect that will be the case for some time.  I’m not sure I’ve ever felt so loved and cared for by so many people.  Thank you. So many notes, texts, phone calls, etc. of support.  One thing I have discovered is that I have to take a break from thinking about cancer at times. So….if I don’t respond to your messages, please don’t think I haven’t appreciated every word.  Indeed I have and will continue to.

The lowest point of the week was last Tuesday. It was time for Tee and I to tell Kelsey and Keenan. This is the kind of information no parent wants to share with their children.  We had already done it once when Tee had breast cancer….and there is no good way to do this.  However, we will always be indebted to our great friend Butch TerHaar for providing us with a small and very private room in our favorite restaurant (aptly called “Butch’s” in Holland).  Thanks also to our friend and server Ryan. The poor guy never knew what he would find when he brought in the next course of our meal – tears, laughter, sobbing…..a total shit show frankly.  But I am so proud of Kelsey and Keenan. They are strong, caring, smart and resilient young adults.  Couldn’t love them more.   We will do this together.

So what’s next? On Saturday I leave for Liverpool, England with 12 students and a colleague/friend.  To be honest, I’m a bit nervous about leaving. (It’s not the work part. I’ve been doing that since I discovered the first enlarged lymph node.  Sometimes it’s the work that keeps me sane.) However….Tee, Kelsey, Keenan and so many family and friends have provided much needed emotional support. How will it feel being so far away from that as I am still “adjusting?”  Honestly, I don’t know.  But I do know that I have some amazing friends in Liverpool.  After several years of going there, I think if it as my second home.  And as I have mentioned before, they invented the phrase, “Keep Calm and Carry On.”  I think I’ll be in good hands.






It’s a scary word – one you never want to precede with “my.”  Unfortunately, now I do.  I’ve been diagnosed with a form of Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma.  (If you are interested in knowing more about the specifics of this, see the lymphoma page.)

Between Christmas and New Year’s Day I felt an enlarged lymph node on my neck. I went to the doctor the next week and was told it was likely due to an infection. The doctor told me to give it six weeks. A week later, another enlarged lymph node appeared. Back to the doctor’s office. This time, I was prescribed a ten day course of antibiotics. No change.  I decided to give it more time – mostly because I didn’t want the scheduler at my doctor’s office to label my file with “neurotic frequent flyer.”

Mid-March and back to my doctor’s office. He referred me to an ENT.  On April 6, I saw the ENT who did a fine needle biopsy and ordered a swallow test at the hospital for two days later. Just over a week later, I got the results – not positive for cancer, but indicated there might be a possibility.

On April 29 it was back to the hospital for surgery. The lymph node was removed – along with a spot on my tonsils and the bottom of my tongue. (Living the dream here!)  Results were positive for the lymph node – but fortunately benign for the other spots. May 7 off to see another ENT. (Long story.)  Another biopsy – this time of the adenoids. Positive for lymphoma.

Saw my oncologist at the Lacks Cancer Center in Grand Rapids on May 17.  She carefully explained that this type of lymphoma is treatable, but not curable.  It’s important to emphasize the word treatable here.  The goal is to watch the symptoms and then treat to send the cancer back into remission.  Remissions can last for a very long time – indeed, for years.  Currently my symptoms are fairly minimal – so no plans to start treatment yet.

Treatment is likely to involve a targeted type of chemo. I’ve had about 2 gallons of blood removed and a CT scan.  The results of those will determine which chromosome the cancer is attached to and the CT scan will determine the size of the lymph nodes in my neck, abdomen and pelvic area.  Best case scenario, I won’t have to start any treatments in the foreseeable future.

How am I feeling?  People often describe these things as a journey or a rollercoaster ride of emotions. Those don’t seem to work for me. I’m not going on a trip and there are no thrills involved. Honestly, it just sucks. Sometimes I’m angry, or numb, or beyond sad…and other times optimistic.

Friday morning we meet with my oncologist again.  She will share the results of the latest tests and then hopefully I won’t see her again for another 3 months…and then another 3 months….and then….well,  I’m sure you get the picture. I’ll share results soon after.

My British friends have a great phrase: “Keep Calm and Carry On”….and that’s the plan. Indeed, I’m off to the UK on June 4 with a great colleague and 12 wonderful Hope students.

Thanks in advance for your positive thoughts and prayers.