In September, when my parents were here for Labor Day, my dad, who was wearing a hat the night they arrived, came upstairs for breakfast the first morning and it looked like he had conked his head REALLY HARD on something. A giant goose-egg like bump was on his forehead, but it was weird because it didn't look like a fresh bump, not bleeding or bruised. When I asked if he had hit his head he said, very casually, "Well, no, actually that's been growing there for a couple of months." Ummmm.... What?! The incredulous questions poured out: Have you had it looked at? What is it? What do you mean 'a couple of months'? Why isn't this something that worries you? Could you please have it checked out?!
His story was that after he initially noticed the lump growing there, he kind of shrugged it off, figuring he'd get it checked sooner or later...later being the obvious decision. He pointed it out to my mom, they both kind of said, "Hmmm, let's watch it," and then they moved on. Weirdos. (I say that with total love and respect for they whom I call Mom and Dad. Love you, Weirdos!). They are very laid-back people, but this was WAY too laid-back for my comfort. I made my dad promise to see his doctor when he got home. And then I proceeded to bug him about it every week or so until he had, in fact, seen said doctor--who traveled a lot in the fall and had very limited hours, so it took a long time. All the while, I continued to ask, "Have you seen the doctor yet?" I am sure I got very annoying.
Mid-October he finally saw the doctor. The doctor did not like the lump. It felt like the next month passed for my parents, my sister and I in waiting and worrying. Everything seemed to take so much time, but when you are worried for someone's health you want answers right away and do not want to wait. It was as if we were either waiting for an appointment or waiting for results for a month. And then it seemed like no one had any real answers either. Worry, worry, worry. We were all extremely worried. Did I say we were worried? Well, we were worried. I ate a lot of chocolate and got a nervous rash and talked to my sister a lot. She and I came up with all kinds of diagnoses from research on the internet. My parents were trying to keep calm and chill, but I could tell it was hard!
My dad was sent in for an MRI. The doctors looked at the films and felt it was time for a biopsy and that my dad should be referred to an oncologist. The tumor, which it now officially was, didn't look like it had gone through his skull, which was good news, but it was definitely attached, and had created its own vascular system, meaning it had its own blood supply. Unfortunately, I just finished a 450 page book about cancer and one of the characteristics of cancer is that it does this very thing. There were a lot of tears. My sister and I were so glad we had each other to talk to because we didn't want to stress our mom or dad with our concerns.
Right at the beginning of the process, I put my dad's name on the Denver temple role and my parents mentioned the upcoming biopsy at church when prayer requests were asked of the congregation. One of the congregants who overheard the call for prayer was a radiologist working in the very lab where my dad would be going to have his biopsy done. From this point on, this doctor made sure he saw and was informed on my dad's case, which was very good. It helped to have someone speeding up processes and asking extra questions. He was like a guardian angel, and we were so grateful he intervened. It was amazing to see an answer to prayer happen so instantaneously and so clearly.
Following the biopsy it was felt that my dad's tumor looked a lot like a lymphoma. Lymphoma on the head? Weird. But at least lymphoma is very treatable and has a pretty good prognosis. So we started to prepare ourselves for dealing with that, but the results of the biopsy hadn't been totally conclusive. My dad's oncologist met with the tumor board at the hospital. They weren't sure how to proceed without more information. My dad's blood work looked good, and didn't supply any additional information. If it was lymphoma, they couldn't tell what type of lymphoma it was from the biopsy, so they wanted a bigger biopsy done. Should it be taken out, would radiation work, would it need further treatment? More waiting....
After the second biopsy, the radiologist came back with a new diagnosis. P.O.E.M.S. The type of tumor was identified as a glomeruloid hemangioma. It is a rare tumor, and not a lymphoma. It is normally part of a larger disorder: P.O.E.M.S. Each of the letters in the acronym stand for a different symptom of the disorder. Tumors that are part of the P.O.E.M.S. disorder (the M-for myeloma) would be recurring and could pop up anywhere in the body, even internally where they'd be harder to detect. But my dad didn't have any of the other symptoms (none of the other letters) to indicate he had P.O.E.M.S. However rare this kind of tumor was, it was even rarer to have it occur without being a part of the P.O.E.M.S. disorder. More waiting.... When my parents saw the oncologist, who had met with the tumor board at the hospital, she agreed that with the lack of any other symptoms, it was unlikely that my dad had P.O.E.M.S. She, along with the tumor board, had agreed though: it was time to take the tumor out. It was mysterious enough that it just had to go, plus, once it was all out they'd be able to look at it more closely and maybe get a REAL answer for us all!
So we are back to yesterday, Thursday, when the tumor, and a nice big chunk of my dad's skull, was taken out. The surgery went well. The tumor had not invaded the dura, the outer part of the barrier between the skull and the brain. Good news! Goodbye, angry lump!! We don't know more about the tumor yet, but we are sure glad it's out of there. And now my dad gets to claim kinship with Wolverine (you know, the X-man with the metal coated bone system??), with the titanium plate in his head in place of the skull that was removed. When he woke up from his surgery and my mom had a chance to talk to him while he was in the ICU the first thing he said was, "You think you could get me some more tubes and wires? I don't know if I have enough." It was clear then that he was just fine! And then in recovery, all bandaged up, he made jokes about being Mr. Napkin Head. Same old Dad! Love that man.
It's killed my sister and I a little that we aren't there. I wish I had bought a ticket out as soon as we knew the surgery was coming. But there have been many good people taking care of my parents for me. My dad has some downtime for recovery ahead of him, which will be hard because he is a do-er. But my mom is a great caregiver and has a lot of support from family and friends in the area, and she has assured us that she will push my dad back on his bum anytime he tries to do too much.
I have thanked God for modern medicine several times over the past few years, and once again I find that I am so happy to be living in a time when so much is known about how to treat tumors, and a piece of a skull can be taken from a head and all is well! So many of my best memories from my life include my dad. He is a man of faith, humor, optimism, endurance and strength. He has always been my hero, my example, my friend, my confidant and one of my biggest fans. I can't wait to see him at Christmas...bionic head and all!
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| You can see the angry lump on my dad's forehead here. Not small. |
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| Post-op! Mr. Napkin Head! |
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| Lump free and lookin' great! YAY! |
