So last week was a BIG one. I was allowed to became a card-carrying member of the cancer-free, as last Tuesday (election day!) my funky ass port was removed.
Big love to my dear friend and my love, Patrick Hogan who was my ride and FB updater. He was also the official dude assigned to talk to my mother....God bless that nutty Irish Catholic man who loves denial just as much as my black ass. Sure I wanted to punch his teeth down this throat when he updated my FB status to "ALL FINE" while they were prepping me for the "procedure." Judging from the track marks up and down my right arm, shit was not "all fine." Apparently, as I learned, now that I have had chemotherapy, all of my crappy veins have become even crappier. That's right. Before they used to just roll away-I attributed it to shyness. Now, they just flat out collapse. And here's the thing, I'm right there with them. Let shit collapse, because I too have done the same thing in many, many ways. Nevertheless, six "pokes", two nurses and one "infusion specialist" later I was on my way to blissful slumber. Thank you Dr. Ray- you cutie pie- for being so thorough. And thank you surgical team for not laughing at whatever drug induced confessional I made while lying on that table. I just KNOW I said something insane- as one member of the all male surgical team was really good looking.....Lord in Heaven...
I was told to expect some bruising the next day. And they weren't lying. After sleeping with my upper body at a 30 degree angle- (like I really measured) I woke up a little stiff and very, very purple in the head and neck area. The kids took one look at me and in complete disgust asked just what in the world happened to me last night. I finally looked in the mirror and understood: Obama won and I was attacked by a coven of vampires. Just another day in paradise.
By Thursday everything was pretty much back to normal. And that was the day I was kind of dreading: my appointment with the newest addition to Team Moy: Dr. George Pappas- (http://www.swedish.org/Physicians/George-Pappas#axzz2C99QPIyV) a board certified internal medical, pulmonary medicine, critical care medicine and occupational medicine doctor was on the books. But more importantly, Dr. Pappas was voted "Top Doctor" by Seattle Magazine in 2011 and 2012. And I now know why.
When he entered the room, I was seriously grouchy and miserable. I was terrified he was going to tell me that my lungs were slowly eroding and that I would have to either ask for a new set from Santa or get my affairs in order. Seriously. Instead, he walked in, dressed in a lovely pin stripe navy suit, extended his hand and said "Hi. I'm George Pappas. How are you feeling today?" I replied: "Well, hi George Pappas. I'm Yvette Moy and I feel both terrified and tired." The conversation then flowed into "So why are you here?" ME: "Because I cannot breathe." And then he said, "you know we need to get some data on you." And at 3:30 PM George Pappas told his staff to give me a chest x-ray and a pulmonary lung function test (which, I swear to GOD is truly humiliating. I don't know how the breathing specialists get through those tests with a straight face. I know I wouldn't. Those machines make you feel like you are practicing your blow job technique- in public- and being JUDGED!) And while they were at it, they wanted me to take a six minute walk while measuring my breathing.
Well, I'm happy to say that I passed the walking test- most I've walked in six months. And the chest x-ray showed improvement. My lung function test with the original, funky lung score of 44 jumped to a whopping 66 in two weeks' time. I commented to George that a 66 was still a D. He replied "Yvette, take the D." Whatever...I'm still rocking the mood altering steroids and he wants to see me again in another two weeks. I'm of the mindset that he will make the coveted Moy holiday card list this year....
Today, I got a little over confident, as two things were on my mind: 1) the four oxygen apparati were scheduled to be picked up from my home and 2) I had not ONE MD appointment this week.
God, when will I ever learn?
No sooner was I really feeling content then the damn phone rang- and it was the dreaded Swedish Issaquah Cancer Institute. Sigh! My new nurse- Susan was on the other line to schedule my 20 radiation sessions. SUCKY! So, this week I get to do a dry run radiation session. UGH! Dialing up Atavan as I type. And radiation begins officially on Monday and will take place daily until December 12.
The oxygen DID get picked up though. So, yay?
And recently I felt well enough to reconnect with some amazing friends I've know for over 30 years. Once they learned of my plight, they swore their allegiance, as only a Seattle transplant who hails from Dayton, Ohio can, to see me through this shitty radiation program. Thank you, Scherief brothers. I am so damn glad to have you back in my life again. Yes, the visual doesn't hurt either....and your shit talking will take me miles on my road to recovery.
Speaking of thanks, the list is growing. To my colleagues at the UW's Graduate School- THANK YOU- the flowers, the fund raising bake sale, the membership to Delicious Planet, the gift card to QFC....the gifts keep coming. And, you know what? I NEEDED it all- and probably not for the reasons you may think. (Well, we DO need to eat...) However, at minimum, they reminded me that even though I haven't been around, I haven't been forgotten- totally huge in my estimation. And at most, your thoughtfulness and careful consideration reminds me of just how lucky I am to be surrounded by some of the kindest people the planet ever saw fit to produce.
I am one lucky, lucky lady.
No comments:
Post a Comment