There’s a saying that goes something like this:
If you don’t like the answer you get, ask a different question.
There are quite a few flaws in this particular statement — I know — but there’s also an undeniable bit of comfort in it, too. And while I believe denial lives on a slippery slope that can lead to deception, I was feeling desperate for better answers about what was happening to Lou. I wanted to have more than speculation from a jaded and overworked ER doctor.
I felt certain that once we had some hard facts to confirm things, then we’d know what to do next. However, I had so many fears around how we’d face the next steps that a part of me wondered if I could actually cope with any more information. It was going to cost us money to find these answers I wanted so badly, and, I was struggling with my fears about how we would pay for doctors or the treatments they might suggest.
But I’m not a totally awful, money-hoarding wife.
I knew without a doubt that this bleeding situation was super serious no matter the diagnosis. And I know you can’t just ignore something like this and hope it goes away. You have to get help, no matter the cost.
There was absolutely no “good” reason for Lou to be bleeding, and I was crystal clear that we were facing something truly scary. So on the way to Minnesota, Lou and I ran every scenario we could think of, trying to work out the best way for us to face this crisis. But nothing we could come up with made either of us feel much better. This was a horrible situation happening during one of the worst seasons of our lives.
After wrestling with the realities together, Lou and I both started to tease the edges of our own fears privately. Lou coped by driving and working the phones to keep the wrinkle cream business on track, while I looked out the window, and tried like crazy to stop my imaginations from getting the best of me.
There were miles and miles of cornfields monotonously stretching out as far as the eye could see, and so the landscape offered zero distraction. And while I didn’t want to let myself believe that Lou had cancer, just in case, I tried to hold that word in my mind for a minute or two. I just wanted to feel the weight of the possibility so I could decide if I was strong enough to carry the load. But as soon as I’d let the thought fester in my mind for a second too long, I’d break under the weight. It was too heavy. No doubt about it.
Lou and I have strong connections in the alternative medicine world, and so after a few hours on the road, Lou called some of our trusted complimentary medicine doctors to get their input. But no matter who we called, the reaction was always the same: You’re bleeding from your penis? That’s not good, Lou.
Duh.
Maybe the other symptoms Lou was experiencing had been there all along, and I was just too busy surviving mildewed towels and less than perfect experiences to notice them. But when our homeopathic healing friends would ask Lou specific questions, it came to my attention that Lou had been having trouble urinating for a few weeks, and he told one of our friends that he’d been “going” a lot more often than usual leading up to our departure from Sarasota. I didn’t know that part. (I hadn’t started keeping track of Lou’s urination schedule at that time.)
But I did notice that we pulled over a lot for Lou to take a leak once we started the trek across the country. And, I noticed that sometimes, the urgency for Lou to go had a very sudden onset. It was like Lou would be fine one minute, and then, with no warning, he’d be panicked to reach the next exit so he could find the nearest bathroom in time.
But once he started bleeding, this urgency situation was so much more concerning to me. And, after every frantic NASCAR-like pit stop we made on the way to Minnesota, I became obsessed with Lou’s status:
Me: Are you still bleeding?
Lou: Yep.
(Darn.)
Me: Is it worse? Or is it getting better?
Lou: Baby, there’s nothing good about any of this…
(Double darn.)
But one thing Lou and I both agreed on is the fact that if this situation was cancer, Lou would want to treat it holistically. He already knew he wouldn’t choose to do chemo; he’d want to find the natural approach. So we decided that we should probably explore the Mayo Clinic option, but we should also tap into the various homeopaths that had clinics in the Minneapolis area.
Lou and I networked through our contacts to find a few names of healers who had great reputations, and then, I Googled their phone numbers. I can’t remember exactly how or why we settled on this one particular healer, but I do specifically remember that he came highly recommended, and I felt such a sense of relief when we were able to secure an appointment for later that afternoon.
