Well the week has not been without it’s drama.
After calling the doctor’s office all day last Wednesday it was late afternoon before I heard from the Doctor, herself. I had elevated lymphocytes, and the ultrasound doctor had recommended a biopsy. (Unfortunately, I only got half that story. The rest of it was that a biopsy was recommended if there were no other indicators of infection.) I told the doctor about Matt coming down with similar symptoms – surely, this must be viral? She said it was possible but she didn’t want to “wave me away just incase, God forbid….”I asked whether it was a Bad Idea to wait and see until Monday, she could check me again, and then if necessary I would do the biopsy on Tuesday. She agreed it was a capital idea.
I commenced a program of mild panic. In the meantime, Matt’s version of the illness got worse. His glands came up, his throat like painful sandpaper. My mind swung from “everything’s fine, viral, viral” to “good lord, I may have lymphoma and the last memory Fraser will have is of me being angry with him about something.” All Matt could express was anger that I’d put the biopsy off to the following week, and how bad his own throat felt.
On Friday afternoon he went to see my doctor about his own health. Thereby confirming, for her, that yes, we had some sort virus. She apologised for the alarm but she’d had a lymphoma patient last year. Things were ugly. I forgave her.
My blood has been sent for re-screening, and Matt’s blood was taken this morning, in efforts to narrow down what this illness is. Thoughts at this stage are glandular fever.
My glands are going down, the night sweats have stopped. I’m coming out the other side. Hopefully, Matt’s not far behind.