This is overdue. Almost as soon as we started the process of informing those people who need to know about the diagnosis, we have been flooded with expressions of support, love and care. With all the follow-up tests and the subsequent paperwork, phone calls & such, we have not had much of a chance to even pause and reflect. 

But we have been moved. I will not name names for fear of embarrassing someone or forgetting someone.

Thursday morning Dean Hudson (last of the names) expressed support and advised me to let the faculty know soon. I announced the diagnosis first to the journalism faculty and was immediately overwhelmed with expressions of compassion, care and support. This from people who make a living at studied dispassionate observation.

Thursday evening we sent out an e-mail to the remainder of faculty and staff in the college. Friday I finished with the MRI and CT scan in time to make the college barbecue. Most people were upstairs eating and talking by the time I arrived. However, I met one colleague in the hall downstairs as I entered the building. She gave me a hug and shared that she had given my name to “all the girls” in her prayer circle. I was touched.

At the barbecue, more of the same. One woman with experience in these matters insisted that I pass along to Nancy her offer “to be there” at all times. One woman told of a grandparent who had the same condition and survived it just fine. Other colleagues have shared stories and expressed support in person and by e-mail.

We chose not to make a blanket announcement at church, but to tell our closest friends first and then widen the circle over time. Again, the response has been remarkable, with offers of help, prayers and support from every corner. One good sister telephoned her sister who lives in Houston. Within hours we had e-mail offers for transportation, a place to stay, all kinds of support. 

In the last few days I have seen more support, more positive, good, compassionate expressions from those around me than I ever expected to see. Praise God.

P.S. This has continued in ways I never dreamed or even considered. There was an envelope stuffed with folding green on my keyboard Friday morning (Sept. 5). There have been continued e-mails from friends and family, including e-mails containing gift certificates on Southwest Airlines. And the week of Sept. 1 I began to actually feel the prayers of others on our behalf. My cup runneth over.

The first test results are back, and they contain cause for rejoicing. The news came one week from the diagnosis — to the hour! Blood tests are all normal. CT scan and MRI show only one problem — the “lesion” in the eye.

So we will offer prayers of rejoicing and continue to get paper work squared away.

Marilyn at MD Anderson called this evening to report that we have a tentative appointment with the center. Sept. 10 check in at 6:30 a.m. with our first meeting with Dr. Gombos scheduled for 7:30 a.m. There is an ultrasound test scheduled after the appointment.

The appointment is tentative currently, because they are still dealing with paperwork exchanges, insurance, and so forth. We have been told to expect the first visit will be 3-5 days and that we will receive a packet of information shortly that will include more paperwork for us to fill out.

I checked into Lubbock Radiology at 7:30 this morning, and by 7:45 they had me on the MRI table. After the first half hour or so, the tech actually found a vein in my left arm (right arm had several holes already, but he wanted to go “the road less traveled”) and got an iv set up for the rest of the morning. He then ran me through the machine with some kind of dye running through my body.

After that, he gave me two large cups of some terrible tasting gastro-something, told me to get my things, go out and walk around the lobby and drink that vile stuff. Well, the college football preview issue of SI was in the lobby, so I had something of interest. Get this — they did a huge special section / report on spread offenses, and there was Mike Leach explaining how the Texas Tech spread offense works. Really cool.

About 9:45 they called me in for the CT scan and gave me one of those stylish hospital gowns. Then as I sat on the machine table, they gave me another small dose of that gastro-cyclin something or other. I complained, and the nurse apologized, saying she was not a very good cook.

Well this machine was not nearly as confining, and it talks to you. It tells you when to breathe. Luckily, I passed all the breath-holding tests, and I was out of there by about 10:30. Now, we just have to wait for results. But I do have some more information about the folks in Houston.

I got to Dr. McCarty’s office before they opened. The receptionist let me in, and as soon as the doctor arrived, they took me in. We chatted a bit as he went over the notes he had from Dr. Allison. He had my blood work from last month handy, so I asked him about liver functions (which I did not remember discussing with him). He said the liver panel they were going to do today was different.

A nurse came and drew three color-coded vials of blood. By the time that was over, the doctor came back in and said that one of the gals in the office would make arrangements for the CT scan and MRI and then they would get back with me. I had paid the co-pay on my way in, so I was on my way out the door, and had actually made it out through the first two sets (of three) doors leading to the parking lot, when Doc McCarty came running (yes, Jack McCarty running — I wish I had a camera) after me.

Emily had already lined up the MRI and CT scans….