The day started with no sticks. That was a welcome change. The tests this morning were nothing terrible, except one of them was a pulmonary evaluation. It’s tough to breathe when you have a cold.
I did have a short moment of heartbreak. According to the tech this morning I have shrunk an inch and a half from what I thought I was. I didn’t realize that she was checking my height or I would have stood up taller. The same tech did something else that I hadn’t ever had measured. She measured my wingspan. Let’s just say that it was considerably less than former UK star Anothony Davis. With my age, height, weight, and wingspan, I am not expecting a call anytime soon from an NBA team. I headed back to the motel for a couple of hours. The first appointment in the afternoon was a nutritional education training. I brushed my teeth before I left. I didn’t think Diane’s brownies between my teeth would bode too well. The final appointment was a leach. It sucked most of the life out of me. The day may have begun with no sticks. It ended with an IV. It was a test to take a picture of my heart. Apparently as some folks have surmised, there must have been a question about whether I have a heart or not. The 15-minute photo session morphed into about an hour of lying as still as possible. I crawled off the machine and shuffled my way to the parking garage. After three days of physical and mental testing, I was spent. I drove to Texas Roadhouse, scarfed down my meal and came back to the room. I can tell the future. It won’t be long after I finish this that I will be in bed. The hematologist overseeing my care, Dr. Leung, wants me to see an endocrinologist to determine when surgery on my thyroid would be possible. Here’s a specific matter of prayer. The next available consultation is September 13th, which is the possible date of the chemotherapy. I may go and sit one day until they get tired of looking at me. Tomorrow is a significant day. I should be informed if I am a candidate for the transplant. If not, I guess we cross that bridge then. I see THE doc tomorrow morning who will make that decision. I also hope he gives me something to kick this cold. Day three I felt pummeled. There’s a reason I never wanted to be a boxer.
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Chuck Cooper
Pastor at Daybreak Community Church Archives
February 2025
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