It all started with a trip to the emergency room one sunny Sunday morning. A wayward kidney stone was the culprit which required a CT scan to determine the location and size. It didn’t take long before the ER doc walked back in the room to share the results and his plan for treatment, which was basically pain medication and time. But right before he walked out, he said, “Oh, and we found a mass on your right kidney, so you’re probably gonna need to have that seen about.” And with those words, he patted my husband on the shoulder, then turned and left the room. We sat in silence for a minute, watching him disappear down the hall, until Joe finally said, “Well, that’s not good.” And so it began . . .

We decided on Corinth, but Corinth told us we needed someone who could robotically perform the required surgery, and offered us two options, one a clinic in Memphis we’d never heard of and the other in Jackson, Mississippi. So, we went rogue and chose option number three—Vanderbilt. The doctor there wanted a second CT to be certain the cancer . . . if, indeed, it was cancer . . . had not spread to his lungs, which is where renal cell carcinoma occasionally heads first, and that the kidney stone had actually exited the building. Fortunately, his lungs were clear and the offending stone had vanished. Unfortunately, they discovered he had an aortic aneurysm. And enlarged lymph nodes. So now, instead of surgery, they felt another test was in order—a lymph node biopsy. 

I don’t know what they expected to find, but according to the nurse who called to discuss the results, it wasn’t lymphoma. Which is exactly what they did find. 

So . . . let’s back up and take stock. Renal mass. Aortic aneurysm. Chronic lymphoma. At that point, I said no more tests. Every time they do another test, they find another thing. So, no more tests, no more things. See how that works? Of course, I didn’t mean it. Much. Which is good since after the lymph node biopsy they scheduled a kidney biopsy.

Now tonight (Tuesday, June 20th), as I record this for posterity—and anyone who might be curious or concerned—we’re sitting at Vanderbilt University Medical Center. Actually, I’m sitting. Joe is lying in bed, missing his right kidney and not exactly in the best of shape, although his sense of humor is still somewhat intact. When he’s awake. Allegedly they’ll send us home tomorrow, as in Wednesday, but time and his ability to walk in the morning will tell.

So why am I, a normally very private person, choosing to share this with the world? There are several reasons, actually. 1) It is currently uppermost in my mind, and when something occupies that much of my mental capacity, I have a need to write. 2) People exist who know him from all sorts of places and are concerned because they’ve heard just enough to worry and not enough to know, and 3) I have an observation or two I’d like to mention, and if ever there was the perfect illustration, this is it. And yes, I asked for and received his permission to share the situation with the world, which normally I wouldn’t do (the sharing part, that is) unless items 2) and 3) apply. 

First of all, we’re very blessed and we are well aware of that. As I told him after we received the initially overwhelming list of ailments, everything they’ve found is fixable. Not everyone is that fortunate when it comes to serious health issues. So many people have reached out to express their concern or to inquire as to how they might help . . . that sense of community reminds us we aren’t alone at times like these. And all of this serves as a stark reminder of something we all tend to forget, or at least try not to remember—that you just never know. Joe never felt sick. He never had any symptoms. If it wasn’t for a random kidney stone, he would be oblivious to everything going on in his body, possibly to the point that it would be too late once one or all of them made their presence known. Which brings us to the observations that should now be obvious. This is why you don’t put your dreams on hold.  It’s why you make time for the important things in life, like your family and yourself. It’s why you plan for the future, but you don’t count on it. It’s why you keep your sense of humor and your optimistic spirit battle-ready at all times. You just never know what tomorrow holds . . . because if Life is nothing else, it is unpredictable.

About the author:  Lisa Shackelford Thomas is a fourth generation member of a family that’s been in funeral service since 1926.  She has been employed at Shackelford Funeral Directors in Savannah, Tennessee for over 40 years and currently serves as the manager there.  Any opinions expressed here are hers and hers alone, and may or may not reflect the opinions of other Shackelford family members or staff.