Reflections

On July 30, 2007, J and I packed a ten-foot U-Haul with all of our possessions, my little toy car attached to the back. We would be making the 495 mile drive to Columbus, Ohio early the next morning. Early in the afternoon, J's doctor called with results of a recent x-ray or CT scan, I can't remember which.

See a pulmonologist, she said, there is a shade on your films that may be lymphoma.

We set out very early, 5:30 a.m. in fact, for what would be a nine-hour drive, J doing most of it, my taking the Pennsylvania turnpike complete with an unsettling toll booth experience. When we arrived at our destination, I had the wonderful experience of J, for once, telling me I was right about something. "You know, Kitty," he said, "I really fought against the idea of hiring movers and said go ahead, thinking it was a waste, but now I'm all for it and am really glad you did it." We were exhausted and having two men help us move all of our crap up three flights of stairs was a god send.

J did go to see a pulmologist, and underwent more tests, only to be told that he probably did have lymphoma but he'd have to have surgery to biopsy the large mass between his lungs to know for sure. We had no money, no friends or family, and he wouldn't see pay check one from school until the end of October. So, of course, I went out to find work.

By this time, what with the stress of no money and no friends and the thought that J had cancer, I was rather stressed out. The stress manifested itself into a physical issue where my right side would go numb throughout the day, for about thirty seconds at a time. It was difficult to walk or use my right arm and even my tongue would go numb on that side, making me speech difficult. I interviewed like that, excusing myself, assuring the interviewer that I was OK but that I just needed a minute. They were always uncomfortable, looking away and offering to get me a glass of water, not really trusting my assurances that I was OK.

My mom and J both thought I had a neurological problem, that I was having mini strokes. But I kept saying I was fine.

And I was right. In the end, I really believe it was just a psychosomatic result of the immense amount of stress I was under. But that isn't to say it wasn't hard. It was an inconvenience during the regular day and embarrassing at those interviews, especially when the American Disabilities Association sent me the rejection letter the next day. It isn't that it was particularly painful, though it was uncomfortable and unsettling, but being unable to reliably speak for any given period of time was incredibly humiliating and difficult. I always remember that, the fact that I had to interview and in every meeting, suddenly sound deaf and have to stop in the middle.

I eventually signed with a temping agency. I took the typing tests and Microsoft Office tests, getting small gigs here and there. I ended up studying up on excel and word to retake the tests for better placements and this is how I ended up at the company where I work today.

By October I was working at a temp gig that was to last a month and it was during this time that J had his surgical biopsy. The surgeon, who oddly enough, worked at Christiana Hospital in our home state of Delaware at one time, told me that on first glance it was lymphoma. He then disappeared on an emergency and none of his staff could be located so I had to break the news.

But then, one day when I was working my month-long gig, J e-mailed me to tell me that it wasn't lymphoma after all, just another bout of sarcoidosis, something he had years ago. It wasn't a lymphoma in his lungs but a mimicking granuloma. I was relieved and joyous, even whilst hating the job I was doing. I almost cried with relief before returning to the day's drudgery because it was the only bit of good news, next to the month-long gig, that we'd had since moving here.

It will be four years on July 31 that we have lived in Columbus and I marvel at how far I've come.