Because of Annie

CHAPTER 1 Consultation June 16, 2008: We got up this morning both feeling anxious and apprehensive. I remember trying to make conversation, but the mood was too awkward. The reality was setting in that we would soon be on our way to the cancer center. Looking back on Annie's extensive health issues over the past year gave me an uncomfortable feeling. It was obvious she had some medical issues, that for whatever reason her general practitioner, and the specialists she'd been seeing, could not diagnose. I'm sure we were both hoping for the best, but from the worried look on Annie's face, I believe she was expecting the worst. A short time later we arrived at the cancer center and checked in. We were placed in a waiting area that was large, seating thirty to forty people, and was relatively full. It didn’t take long for us to realize that we were surrounded with so much sadness. Annie pointed to a lady and said, “Look at her, bless her heart, she’s really struggling.” Personally, at the moment I wasn't concerned about the other patients in the room. But as my gaze shifted to the lady, I took a good look at her, and my emotions went through some changes. That's when I realized we were on the outside looking in, and the thought that we might soon be on the inside looking out changed my views. Annie was an extremely compassionate person, and I believe I was trying to look at the other patients through her eyes. I was starting to understand rather quickly that the folks in this room were all part of a larger family, and for the most part lived on hope. Eventually, a nurse took us back to the laboratory where Annie had her initial blood draw. After her blood was drawn, the nurse escorted us to one of the patient rooms and checked Annie’s vital signs. She left the room telling us that Dr. Moore Sr. would be in soon. The room was small, about 10 by 12 feet. We were sitting along the North wall facing South. Annie and I both noticed the South wall was ornately decorated with large and small shadow boxes filled with different species of some of the world's most beautiful butterflies. I couldn't help but wonder if the butterflies weren't peace in the face of such adversity. For that short moment in time, I think the butterflies allowed us to communicate and escape to a part of our minds where there was no thought of cancer. When Dr. Moore Sr. came in the room, his first words were, “Ann, have you been feeling sick lately? Have you had a cold or any fever?” Annie replied that she hadn't been feeling well, but she didn't believe she was sick. This short, stocky man had a strangely curious look on his face as he walked by us towards his desk saying, “That is strange,” but really didn't elaborate. That's when I asked the question, “Dr. Moore, have you ever seen blood like Annie’s?” My heart sunk when he looked at me and replied, “I see it every day Bob, that’s what I do.” Cancer was not mentioned as he needed to do a bone marrow biopsy to find the source of Annie’s illness. At that point, he opened the door and yelled out two words, “Bone marrow!” Shortly after, a nurse came in pushing a stainless steel cart. It happened so quickly, I believe she was waiting outside our room for the call. The cart had a tray on top with some strange looking instruments—a rather frightening sight. One of the instruments was long and narrow with threads on the end. That was to be used like a cork screw to get inside the bone to the marrow. The nurse helped Annie onto the bed and laid her on her right side. They used sterile cloth to drape over her hip, leaving the target area open. They gave her a local anesthetic to numb the area. I positioned myself up near her upper body, put my right arm around her neck, and held one of her hands with my left hand, knowing it was going to be painful. When Dr. Moore Sr. finished the procedure, my hand was numb from Annie’s squeezing. The only thing I heard from her through that whole process was when she said “Ouch!” a couple of times. The process took about half an hour. Before the doctor left the room, he looked at Annie and remarked, “Ann, I think Bob took this procedure worse than you did.” I had tears running down my cheeks, and probably for the first time in my life, I felt her pain. It really pulled at my heartstrings watching her go through the procedure, and I suppose in the back of my mind I was very fearful of what they might find. He told the nurse to clean her up and told us that we could expect the results in about seven days. Dr. Moore Sr. was kind. He didn't make a big deal out of the lab report one way or the other. We assumed that he was going to be absolutely sure of her biopsy results before he spoke. The ride home from the cancer center was very awkward. Our drive through suburban Wichita was a non event, but it was now difficult for both of us not to notice the kids playing, and couples walking hand in hand in happiness, while we were left wandering in the darkness. We really didn't know what to say to each other. Annie simply sat and stared out the window, her eyes gazing from one area to another, obviously deeply in thought. She had a strange calmness about her as if she had resigned herself to the fact that she probably had some sort of cancer. As for me, I felt rather numb, but remained focused on driving through heavy traffic and getting us home safely. When we arrived home, Annie would normally get out of our vehicle, look at our beautiful two story home, all our trees, shrubs, and greenery, then give me instructions on the many jobs she had in mind for me to take care of. Not this time. Her mood was solemn as she took a slow walk into our home. As the sun started to set, it became apparent to me that our lives were changing. The unspoken words of Dr. Moore Sr. were driving our emotions. I didn't know what the unspoken words were, but somehow I think Annie knew. When we went to bed that night, I gave her a leg massage, as over the past several months her legs had been hurting. She fell asleep, not mentioning the day's events. The next few days were much the same; they were filled with a quiet calmness, and our own anticipation of the biopsy results that would be coming our way in a few days. For whatever reason, we didn't speak of Annie's first appointment, but once again, I think the unspoken words or Dr. Moore Sr. were locked in the forefront of our minds. What was he going to say?