Yes, all of that (and more) was inside my lung cavity. From the thoracentesis site, I had a tube placed which would continue to drain the liquid from my lung cavity for the rest of my hospital stay.

I would drain about 3 more liters before going home.

(where they keep the very old, very sick, and kind of crazy)

I was soon transferred to the Direct Observation Unit as doctors were really concerned about the fluid buildup around my heart.

I really believe if you’re treated like a sick person, you feel like a sick person.

My time in DOU made me feel like a sick person. I was nauseous my first 3 days there, and barely ate anything. My vitals were checked every 4-6 hours and I couldn’t get out bed without an alarm going off. I had to call my nurse for help with anything and everything.

Every day was still a maybe on if I would get to go home. Because the fluid amount in my lung and heart cavity were still so concerning, no one was in a rush to discharge me.

My first room neighbor in DOU set the tone of the whole floor: screaming for help all night despite nurses checking on her on tending to her needs, and throwing things at one of my nurses. She was eventually moved to a different room where I could still hear her screaming. She’d go on to attempt to pull out her IV, try to get out of bed (she was not ambulatory), and eventually called 911.

The next room neighbor I had felt a lot like home: An older Mexican lady the same age as my grandma. We ended up chatting for awhile after I helped her with her tv (I was a hospital pro by this point). We talked about life and family, including some of her ghost stories.

She was discharged a few days later and I would have 2 more neighbors (kind but kept to themselves). I began to feel like Rachel when she goes into labor and all the people who she rooms with have their baby before her.

I was told the cause of the fluid buildup (and other symptoms) could be a variety of things: autoimmune conditions, infections varying from normal to “exotic”, and lymphoma.

I wished every day for an update that it was a normal infection gone untreated, and when those results came back normal I found myself bargaining: a weird gross infection, an autoimmune disease, anything but cancer.

That’s not at all to discount those that live with life-threatening infections or autoimmune diseases. But even with my family members having gone through different types of cancers and surviving them, cancer is such a scary word.

On April 9th, I was woken up by my favorite pulmonologist. As my mind broke through the grogginess, I saw it on his face, and Dr Tabari told me that my biopsy had come back and it was what we feared: lymphoma.

He also told me that although he just me he could tell I was resilient, and that I had it in my to handle this outcome.

Since the first day he was assigned to me, he had been treating me with kindness and sincere empathy - really listening to me and breaking down possible outcomes and options in a digestible way. I’m grateful he was the one to break the news to me.

After that, things moved really quickly.

By that evening, I had a PICC line installed (a long, flexible tube inserted into a vein in the arm and threaded up into a larger vein above the heart) for chemo treatment, and had been transferred to a room in the oncology wing.

After a week in DOU, my oncology room felt like the penthouse unit. I had my own private room, and I was no longer tied up to constant monitoring.

Apart from having to carry around the box my lung was continuing to drain into, I could actually walk around my room and go to the restroom unassisted.

I was officially diagnosed with Stage IV Hodgkin’s Lymphoma, Nodular Sclerosing type. The plan was set for 6 rounds of chemo, 2 treatments per round, one every other week. I started my first treatment while still inpatient on April 11.

For those familiar with chemo drugs, I’m on the A+AVD regimen, rather than the standard AVBD.

The exciting part? Within just a few days post-chemo, the swollen lymph nodes in my neck and chest had visibly gone down.

I felt relatively well during and after treatment. The strange side effect I mostly dealt with was salivary gland and tongue pain - no sores, but pain and discomfort as if I’d eaten bags of sour candy.

On April 16th, I got the best news ever: I could go home! Oncology had monitored me for a few days after my first treatment and also determined it safe to send me off. Cardiology had determined that my heart function did not appear impacted my the fluid, and as the chemo is expected to eventually solve the fluid issue, they cleared me to go from their end.

Finally, pulmonology cleared me to go as well. My lung had drained well enough that I was safe to go home with a return appointment a few days later for a Pleurx catheter - a permanent version of the drain tube I had that would allow me to go home and drain from there.

I got my current tube removed, got my discharge sorted and was finally released!

Happy faces when my hubby finally got to take me home