My Cancer in Bullet Points #7 (Aneurysm and Allergic Reaction)

* I bet y'all are in festive Thanksgiving mode. I hope each of you had a grateful day with family and friends. I'm sorry I have to bring you some eventful (and not in a good way) news.

* The contrasted CT scan on the 26th was a breeze. However, the after-effects were a nightmare.

* My brother Vince (yes, the one who watched me do a somersault down the stairs when I was eight) and his pup arrived from western North Carolina. Carl and I were happy to see them.

* I had been told to drink plenty of water after my scan to flush out the iodine which was infused into my body.

* It was a gorgeous fall day and we sat outside while I drank water like it was going out of style.

* Suddenly, I was seeing split images of Carl's and Vince's faces. I tried to tell them a story about my cousin, but instead of following my words, Carl asked me to raise my arms above my head and smile. They were convinced I was having a stroke or an allergic reaction to the contrast.

* My head pounded. The pressure was extreme. Yep, it was the worst headache of my life.

* Most allergic reactions from iodine don't wait two hours to attack, but 1 in 85,000 do. I'm one in 85,000.

* The next thing I knew, I was in the Emergency Room at Duke Medical Center.

* The triage nurses agreed with the unprofessional diagnosis of my husband--it was either a stroke or an allergic reaction.

* They wheeled me into the CT scan room and administered the CT scan without using any contrast.

* They discovered I had an aneurysm. (From the Mayo Clinic: An aneurysm is a bulge or ballooning in the wall of a blood vessel. An aneurysm can break open. This is called a rupture. A ruptured aneurysm causes bleeding inside the body. It often leads to death. Some aneurysms cause no symptoms. You might not know you have an aneurysm even if it is large.)

* Since there was no blood leakage, they ruled out stroke.

* I was wheeled into a room with the neurosurgeon and the attending physician.

* The aneurysm brought so much confusion. I kept my eyes closed nearly the whole time and my head down.

* They discussed the options with my husband, saying this might require immediate surgery.

* For some reason, it seemed this all boiled down to whether or not I had shortness of breath. At one point I must have told someone I had shortness of breath. I have no recollection.

* When the attending decided I did not have shortness of breath, I was given masses of intravenous drugs to counteract the allergic reaction.

* Finally, the head pounding subsided; I was able to open my eyes and look at the doctors.

* An additional scan was needed to determine the severity of the aneurysm.

* By this time it was 9 PM. We'd been there since 6 PM.

* The neurosurgen said I was next up for an MRI, and she would formulate a plan. She told Carl and my brother that emergency neurosurgery was most likely off the table, but she needed to see the scan results to be sure.

* I was told I couldn't have anything to eat or drink because I might have to go into surgery.

* The hours passed; Carl sent my brother home to our house. Carl and I waited four hours for my turn in line.

* At last, the MRI was done! The attending said we could go home, but not without a slight fight. One doctor said I had to stay overnight; another told me I could go home after the scan. Carl and I yearned for our bed!

* We were told the neurosurgeon's office would call Monday for a treatment plan for the aneurysm and that we could salvage what was left of Thanksgiving day.

* Turn back the clock to 3:39 PM . . . . . Prior to the allergic reaction and the aneruymsn, thirty minutes after we got home, my oncologist had called to say the CT (the CT that used contrast which I now know I am allergic to) results showed signs of metastatic cancer.

* I listened as she talked, talking notes on paper we use for our grocery lists. There were nine papers of scribbling.

* The oncologist said she'd schedule a PET scan and another biopsy in the next two weeks.

* I'd thought I wouldn't have any CT updates until Monday, so was surprised to hear so soon.

* After I was wheeled out of the ER and secured into our Jeep, Carl and I were home by 3:15 AM. We got three hours of sleep, and had that beautiful turkey ready for the Thanksgiving table that afternoon.

* What a treat to be with family! What a gift to be alive!

* My neck muscles and upper chest muscles are sore. My neck feels like someone is squeezing it. Yet, I feel an improvement from when I first got home two days ago.

* Lesson made very clear----We are all just one breath away from death.

* I ask God to let me clean out my bedroom closet first. No one should have to suffer through it, but me. After all, it's my mess.

***Before posting this, I've asked Carl to make sure everything I've written is clear and correct. Sadly, there are approximately 7 hours of my life where I remember nothing.*** P.S. If this has any misspellings, I'm sure you'll give me a break.***