Searching for Answers
The moon light sliced through the clouds speckling the landscape with a silvery glow. Rain dripped from the sky coating the windshield with a layer that sloshed against the wipers. The ground was slick, and my eyes were tired, the combination made the drive taxing as we drove over the ominous bridge entering the city. In the distance, limbless trees reached for the sky behind them in an eerie blanket of crimson.
Following the directions of the GPS we drove down a lonely road, haunted with shadows leading to a dimly lit multi-level building. Driving through a narrow driveway we parked in a roundabout in front of the Hope Lodge. We were fatigued, our muscles hurt, and Casey and I were ready to get some rest.
Waking the next morning the vibe was completely different. It was warm and comfortable; the atmosphere was loving, and the heart of the city was delightful. The contrast of the land’s spirit was unlike anything I’d ever experienced. Sightseeing in New Orleans was wonderful, I’ve never been to such an exotic and adventurous city. It was a haunting place at night and a gorgeous land by day. I remember walking through the French Quarter marveling at all the energy. We went to a beautiful park in Kenner, saw all sorts of exotic creatures, watched a friendly otter swim in a lake and smiled at all the head bobbing turtles.
I spent a week in New Orleans, some of it was spent adventuring, but most of the time was spent inside of massive machines, having blood drawn and taking tests. After a week of uncomfortable pokes and prods we headed to meet the man of the hour, the specialist I drove from Saint Louis to New Orleans to see. We arrived at the office a little before eight o’clock for an appointment scheduled for eight in the morning. The doors were locked, for a moment I thought we were in the wrong place. After hanging out in the hallway for a bit, a staff person arrived and unlocked the door. The waiting room was decorated with all sorts of zebra patterns, it seemed like a fun looking place. The receptionist handed me paperwork, too much to read and sign in an appropriate period of time. I don’t know how they expected me to get it all done. After a few minutes, we were shown into the examination room, everything felt so rushed and disorganized. It felt like the staff had a better place to be than talk with me, which was a stark contrast from the rest of the hospital.
When I spoke with the specialist I was excited, there was nervousness in my breath. This increased as our conversation progressed, the more I asked the more uncomfortable I became. At first the doctor seemed friendly, but as our conversation continued the red flags began to raise. He didn’t know we drove hundreds of miles for this appointment, he didn’t know anything about my medical history, and he didn’t even know I had just spent the last week getting scanned and tested for this appointment. In what I hoped would be the opportunity to get on the right track became another lost cause.
I inquired about my scans, labs, and slides. I thought he was going to show them to me, explain the findings and share the results, but none of that happened. My stomach churned, my gut twisted, and I felt hollow.
Thank God I had my medical history in my hand. Once he opened the file I asked him if my liver had moved up into my thoracic cavity and he quickly said no. Then I asked him what a mass effect was, he didn’t respond, so I pressed the question again, this time handing him the report from the scan I had just received.
He took the paper and stared at the scan on his computer screen. He muttered some kind of mumble, clicking the mouse here and there complaining under his breath.
I asked him again what the mass effect of my liver might be. With a shrug he said it was most likely just my liver pressing against my heart. Then nonchalantly told me I would probably have to have a surgery to fix it one day. He pointed at the port in my chest and told me I should have it removed. That was it. I drove all this way, spent all sorts of money and what was I left with? Not much.
While in New Orleans I spent a great deal of time laying inside of fancy, expensive devices. I drank interesting fluids after being injected with all sorts of mysterious serums. It was great to get these tests done, if I were smarter, stronger, or possessed more wisdom I would have asked why I couldn’t take these tests in Saint Louis.
Of all the scans I was provided only one result. The report indicated that there was something described as a mass effect in my liver. Specifically, it read: “Right lung has been resected and the right thoracic space is largely filled by liver and a trace amount of fluid at the right lung apex. The liver produces some moderate mass effect on the right side of the heart.”
When I read it on the report I felt anxious, perhaps it meant nothing, perhaps it meant something. Any news feels like bad news. I looked up what mass effect was, mostly it brought up video game stuff and references to cranial tumors. That wasn’t a fun thing to read, but instead of worrying about it, I kissed my girlfriend and returned to the fun adventure of exploring New Orleans.
What was the value of this journey? New Orleans was a beautiful place, I have never been to such an enchanting land. The significance of this trip was in the magical moments I spent with someone very special to me. I learned that seeing a specialist was not enough. I discovered I had to take it to the next level, to be the squeaky wheel and make some noise. To receive the wellness we need, we have to speak up, talk loudly and move with heavy steps. We have to be a gale force wind, a tornado, and an unstoppable force.
When the world is up in the air and nothing is certain but uncertainty, we must learn as much as we can from our adventures and move forward.
