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A different kind of drama
It’s been quite a few weeks since I’ve blogged, and it’s not because there haven’t been memorable shows on stage around Fairfax. It’s because my mind has been elsewhere.
My youngest son, David, a freshman chemical engineering major at the University of Delaware, came home from spring break more than three weeks ago with a lump and swelling on the left side of his face. After searching the Internet, David diagnosed his discomfort as a jaw problem. He figured the dentist would take care of it at his six-month checkup on April 3.
The dentist took one look at the lump and said David needed to see a doctor. A closer look revealed that David’s bite was way out of alignment and several of his teeth were loose.
We made an appointment with our family doctor, Tessa Cholmondeley, for the next morning. She examined David and immediately scheduled an MRI for that afternoon. The MRI indicated that David has a 6-cm. mass in his left sinus that has eroded his jaw bone and is pushing toward his middle ear, his eye and his brain.
Dr. Cholmondeley’s partner and our longtime friend, Gwilym Parry, met my husband Gene and me when the MRI was almost over. He told us the mass appeared to be well-defined and slow-growing and most likely would be treatable. But since a tumor of this type hadn’t been featured on “Grey’s Anatomy” or “House” (two of my favorite shows, by the way), Dr. Parry said he couldn’t give us a precise diagnosis. We welcomed the chance to laugh.
Five days later, David, Gene, our pastor Beth Neubauer and I were sitting in an exam room in the office of Dr. Kenneth Newkirk, a head and neck cancer specialist in Georgetown University Hospital’s Department of Otolaryngology. Dr. Newkirk examined David and asked him a lot of questions. I got the impression Dr. Newkirk wasn’t too happy with what he saw. He recommended that David have a PET/CT scan the next morning to assist Dr. Newkirk with the biopsy he proposed doing the following Tuesday. He suspected David might have a sarcoma.
At 5:30 a.m. this past Tuesday, David, Gene and I arrived at Georgetown’s surgical center for the two-hour biopsy scheduled for 7:30 a.m. Pre-op was going smoothly until the anesthesiologist asked David to open his mouth. The tumor has considerably restricted David’s jaw movement so that he has trouble opening his mouth very wide. The anesthesiologist was concerned that he wouldn’t be able to insert a breathing tube and might have to cancel the surgery. He also cautioned that he might break or knock out some of David’s teeth as he tried to get the tube in. My already-tenuous hold on my wits wobbled as my anxiety level ratcheted up.
Even though the surgery – performed up through David’s nose – proceeded as planned with no harm done to his teeth, it was the worst morning of my life. I’m squeamish anyway; I don’t like blood or needles. Because of the early hour, I hadn’t felt like eating breakfast. Compounding that was my paralyzing fear about what Dr. Newkirk would find. I was a wreck, nauseous and light-headed.
Wednesday and Thursday we waited. Thursday happened to be my birthday – not the sort of birthday I had anticipated. I didn’t have to think twice about what to wish for when I blew out the candles on my cake!
Friday afternoon we met with Dr. Newkirk again. He told us the preliminary pathology report indicated that the tumor is most likely a schwannoma, and schwannomas are “usually benign” – 90 percent to 95 percent are not malignant. When I heard those words, I felt like a balloon from which someone had suddenly let out the air. I had the feeling I was flying all over the room and came to rest, spent, on the floor. Also, the previous two weeks suddenly seemed to rewind in my mind like a videotape.
We’ll have the complete pathology report by the end of this coming week. In the interim, we have a consult scheduled at Johns Hopkins to see if the doctors there concur with the diagnosis and what they recommend for treatment. Dr. Newkirk said the standard treatment is either surgery or radiation. Before making a decision we’ll need to meet with a radiation oncologist and a neurosurgeon (a referral to Dr. McDreamy would be lovely right about now!).
Needless to say, I haven’t spent much time in the office and even less time reading emails about auditions and upcoming plays. It’s been impossible to focus on any dramas besides the one in our family.
The outpouring of love, support, prayers and concern we’ve felt from family, friends and co-workers has been overwhelming. We have been so blessed in that regard. There have been good-hearted people to help us every step of the way. We also couldn’t have asked for better care at Georgetown. The staff there – from Otolaryngology to Radiology to Out-patient Surgery – could not have been kinder or more accommodating.
Thankfully, David has taken everything in stride with confidence and an uncanny sense of humor. He actually posted his MRI photo on Facebook with a caption to inform his friends of what they’re looking at. He also decided to name the mass “The Trump Tumor,” in honor of his hero, Donald Trump. He said The Donald would be so proud because the tumor is “HUGE!”
Once David is on the road to recovery, I’ll return to my regular blogging. A lot of great shows are coming up this spring and summer. I’m very much looking forward to forgetting the surgical theater and turning my attention back to the community stage.
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