My adventure begins in August of 2006. A routine cholesterol check discovers proteins in my blood. I am sent from one doctor to another until October, when I find myself at a Cancer Clinic in Plano, Texas. I have, at the time, absolutely no idea why I am there. That's because I know I don't have cancer. A nice oncologist tells me in his little white room that I probably don't have Multiple Myeloma, a cancer of the bone marrow, but we'll do some tests to prove it. Upon my return visit, I strut through the door, pretending to open the automatic doors magically with a wave of my arms. At 43, I am the youngest person waiting in the sunny waiting room that goes perfectly with the sunny voice that answers automatically when you call the clinic. A nurse calls my name, mispronouncing it. I don't have the will to correct her. Once again, back in the little white room where I first met the oncologist, I can tell by the look on his face as he's walking through the door that he is not happy. A bone marrow biopsy is needed to prove I don't have Multiple Myeloma.
Three days later, my husband is holding my hand as they dig into my pelvis bone for evidence with a long needle. I can bear the pain because of three things. My husband. A lollipop*. And an understanding that I'm about to prove everyone wrong. *A pain-killing lollipop.
That weekend I'm in my favorite place on the planet. Wimberley, Texas. Where my brother-in-law is having his 60th birthday party. And it is huge! I put on a brave face, but it doesn't matter--I'm scared. No one wants to talk about it. And I am so relieved. But one night a discussion ensues, and I reveal my fears. Kirk, my husband, says, "Sherry, you don't even have cancer."
The next week, Kirk and I walk hand in hand down the little hall outside the oncologist's little white room. The nice man finally enters, and he does not look happy. I do have Multiple Myeloma.
"Never heard of it," I say. "Can't have something you've never heard of, right?" I was joking, but it wasn't funny.
That was October 15, 2006.
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