The Bright Light

I’m grateful when I wake up without pain in the Autumn of my life. From the day we are born, we are aging, and though we never think what we see our elders go through will ever happen to us, surprise, it does. Like a brand new, perfectly running car that is fast and efficient, through time, certain parts start to break down. I am grateful that when something does break down, we live in an age of medical knowledge to cure and heal diseases that our forefathers and mothers did not have. We live longer and healthier than 100 years ago and take for granted how lucky we are to live in these times.

Though the romantic idea of time travel back to a simpler time seems like life would be better, it’s not. Times were much more challenging for most, and medicine wasn’t always available to those who needed it. Living without running water and electricity are things I never thought about; it was always there in my lifetime. How grateful I am that we have those simple luxuries. The vitality of my youth, like the energizer bunny, I could go, go, go all the time and rarely feel tired. I never thought about slowing down or aging, but it does happen, and I’m grateful that I had excellent health for most of my life. So, my gratitude was dropping when my body took an unhealthy turn. I certainly wasn’t grateful to my Internist, who misdiagnosed me and didn’t refer me to a specialist until I insisted.

The touch of pink in my urine was coming and going. This had been going on for a while. I had two small kidney stones, and she said the blood was coming from the stones. My doctor sent me out for another urine test, which all came back negative, and she suggested drinking more water. I told her of the increased pressure to urinate, and she said that happens as we get older. She referred me to an online class to learn exercises to help with that. 

I didn’t worry much as I trusted my doctor that she knew what she was doing and I wasn’t in pain. But, one morning, the bowl was a see-through light burgundy. I had already received the urine results, and they showed no infection, but I had 114 mg of RBC in my urine. I still never heard back from the doctor. A few days later, the urine culture came in, showing no infection. I still have not received word from the doctor. I emailed her again with my concern and assumed it was nothing serious; otherwise, she would have contacted me. Right?……..Wrong. You have to be your own advocate and push the envelope. 

A day later, I finally heard back from her with the excuse she had not gotten back to me because she was waiting for the results of the culture, which had already come in 2 days earlier again negative. I asked her for a referral and stated something was wrong. I needed to see a specialist…....finally, a referral was sent to Urology. I had to wait another month for an appointment. Seeing the pink lemonade in the toilet and the dull lower back pain every so often sent my racing thoughts into overdrive.

The day came for my appointment, and I was so happy to find out what was going on finally. Looking at all my symptoms in my file, the Urologist said she needed to look inside my bladder for tumors as they would not show up on an X-ray or ultrasound. Tumors? Aren’t these just kidney or bladder stones? I was hesitant to have the procedure, afraid of the pain, but reluctantly agreed and grateful that I did. She immediately found an aberration. After the procedure, she let me change and said she would return to talk to me. My heart sank; I knew it would not be good news.

The doctor sat next to me and said very gently, “You have a tumor.” Stunned, my first question was, “Is it cancer?” 

She said, “Yes. But the good news is it is slow growing.” 

I asked how she knew for sure it was cancer, and she said by the location and size but that she didn’t know which grade of cancer. The pathologist would determine that. She said her office would contact me the next day to book the surgery.

The strange thing was back in March, I had booked a five-day mini vacation in a cottage with a large private pool up in the wine country to spend time with friends and family. The surgery date happened to fall seven days after I returned from my vacation. Had I booked the holiday for any other time, I would have had to cancel unless it was either months before or after the surgery. It was as if the universe provided me with the right time to spend quality time with family and friends, swimming, laughing, and relaxing before I entered this next journey in this chapter of my life. Grateful.

The vacation property was private, quiet, and in perfect weather. The pool’s silky crystal clear blue water was set at 85 degrees and was heaven to float in. One evening, around 8:30 pm, the sun had long gone down, but it was right before complete nightfall, and I was floating in the pool, staring into the sky. It had been a fun day with everyone, but now I was alone with my thoughts. I had an intense fear of cancer and how I saw it take the lives of my mother, father, brother, aunts, and uncles. While floating, I had a one-sided conversation with God. I whispered how scared I was and how hard it was to have faith. I asked God, the universe, or whoever was listening to give me a sign, something to hold on to. Still floating with the warm water caressing the outline of my face and staring up at the dimming blue sky, a partial verse from the bible came to my mind. ‘Ask, and you shall receive; seek, and you shall find’. 

So, I asked, “Please, God, give me something to hold on to, to let me know you are there. That you exist.” 

I could hear my breath slowly drawing in and out of my body. I turned my head slightly, still looking at the sky, and the brightest, boldest light came through the clouds. The sun had set hours before; where was this light coming from? I kept staring, unsure if what I saw was real, and then it vanished. Calmness overcame me, my fears melted away, and I knew this journey would not be easy, but everything would be alright.

The night before the surgery, once again, I became scared of the unknown and took an Ativan to ease my anxiety and get some sleep. Unfortunately, it relaxed me too much that I slept through both alarms at 4:30 am and two phone calls from my sister saying they were outside to pick me up at 5:30 am. Finally, I heard the door buzzer, and my poor, worried sister was relieved I was ok. I threw on some clothes and was out the door; we had to be at the hospital by 6:15 am. I had no time to feel scared or anxious, and I was still groggy from my deep sleep.

Every step of the way went exactly how it was supposed to go, even the mistakes, like the nurse forgetting to connect my oxygen. I’m grateful for it all because it was a huge lesson for me. Never again will I completely put my fate in someone else’s hands, as I had done most of my life. After all, it is my body; I was the one who should have pushed for more answers. But I am grateful I finally did. The life lessons are presented, and if you fail to learn from them, you must keep repeating the same class until you get it. I wanted to blame my Internist for not referring me sooner to the specialist. It had been going on for almost a year. But I wanted to believe that nothing serious was happening or she would spot it. Doctors make mistakes, too.

The pathology report takes a few weeks, but I’m not afraid. I believe all will be well. I’m grateful that the cancer was caught and removed. I’m grateful for all the love and support my family and friends provide me. I’m grateful for that bright light, and I’m grateful I’m here to write this story.