"It fits. I like it." He said to me....
Now, what is running through your mind? Me? When I read something like that I want to say: "That's what she said..." And then chuckle. Though lately chuckles are the last thing on my mind or in my heart. I know...shitty way to start off isn't it?
Well, let me take you back to the beginning. Today, I met with a surgeon, one Dr. Brian Lang. This was to serve as the follow-up to my neurologist Dr. Ani Mai's suggestion/referral to see him due to the MRA diagnosis of subclavian vein stenosis- or, clogged or compressed vein.
Now Dr. Lang is a surgeon of the vascular variety. Very experienced, well education (GO DAWGS!), and I cannot lie, kinda nice looking....I wanted, no I NEEDED to like him, trust him, right away; because this meeting, I believed, held the answer, the fix to what is wrong. Seriously. I envisioned the white OR, the anesthesia creeping into my veins, putting me to sleep. I saw myself in that groggy state of trying to wake up, with Dr. Lang peering over me, saying everything went better than expected. I would be all better. The pain and swelling would be gone forever.....
Instead what I got was a 45 minute seminar on how to read an MRA. I learned all about the vena cava (one of my favorite words in the English language, BTW) and symmetry, blood flow, arteries, you name it....I also learned that in his professional opinion and many years of experience, that while, yes I have some jacked up clogged/compressed veins, there was nothing at all he could do for me. NOTHING. And, really- he doesn't think this is a vein issue. Wrong store. Go fish....
Unflinchingly, I stated to him: "Well, I'm not sure what to do at this point. I mean, a nurse told me that I have radiation induced brachial plexiopathy."
He replied with what I wrote above. It fits, you see this paralysis diagnosis from the nurse. And, well he liked it.
Cue the tears.....
Now, I have brothers and I've been around enough men to know just how squirrely the fairer sex gets when tough broads break down. However, a trained professional who cavalierly and cockily gives someone a diagnosis of life-time paralysis should have the stones to well, take it like a man, for crying out loud.
Instead, he turned even whiter than his God-given hue, starts babbling about updating my chart and ran, YES, RAN out of the room.
Where did that leave me? Alone in a room, for starters... And, well, I sucked down the tears- because really, what was the point? First, I called my mom. "Yay! It's STILL not cancer...."And, then I phoned my gay Jewish boyfriend in New York, who replied: "What a dumbass. Get a second opinion." Yes, I can do that! I almost forgot! (HOPE!) And then called my best friend Patty Mate who replied: "Oh my GOD, get a second opinion and be sure to write him up on a comment card." (AH! Power!)
How come a second opinion never occurred to me? I have no clue. Instead, what came to mind was my Nordstrom mentality of simply returning it all. Just take it back; the cancer, the cure, the side effects, the test, the "just a little poke"... Fuck it. Nope, don't have the receipt. But, don't want it anymore. And, well, the store's policy is to accept all returns- no questions asked, right?
Though if pushed for a reason, I guess I could always say: "Well, it doesn't fit and I don't like it."
Friday, May 31, 2013
Tuesday, May 28, 2013
CANCER: Unremarkable me....
May 17, 2013 fell on a Friday. And, May 17, 2012 fell on a Thursday.
Though, let's compare and contrast the two dates:
2013, I woke up, showered, kissed my mom goodbye, got an MRI/MRA at Swedish Issaquah and then hopped a NYC bound plane....hung out on the isle of Manhattan and then took off for St. Martin for a full week of bikini clad, rest and relaxation....
2012- I am fairly certain I woke up and showered. I also headed over to Swedish Issaquah- with my mom in tow....and watched my blood pressure hover in the area of heart attack vicinity, as I was plugged in for my very first chemo treatment.
I know...Which two things are NOT like the other?
In 2012, I was working on the whole "trying to stay alive" thing. Whereas in 2013, like Inspector Clouseau I am trying to figure out just what event in 2012 caused my left arm to swell and left hand to hurt like it is on fire....
Now, you know ALL about the messed up, over the phone, shitty diagnosis about my arm dying. And, today you are going to find out that according to this year's test "it appears that there is an area of narrowing involving the subclavian vein that may be accounting for the arm swelling.....the segmental stenosis or occlusion of the proximal subclavian vein is over a distance of about 2.2 cm." Also, "The MRI of the bundle of nerves around the armpit area was fine." And my "bones are unremarkable."
Now, narrowing of the subclavian vein, I can understand....segmental stenosis, I get too. But I draw the line at unremarkable bones. You can say all kinds of stuff about me. But, there is nothing, I repeat nothing, unremarkable about me. I am gonna have to speak to management about editing that document to accurately reflect the character of my bones. Trust me when I tell you- they are remarkable.
Ok- all kidding aside, just what in the hell does all of this mean? Well, Dr. Ani Mai- lady of few words, sent me an email stating: "I'd like to send you to a vascular surgeon to take a look at it." And after reading all of this foolishness, I wanted to reply: "Dr. Mai, I would like to send you to the moon..."
I refrained.
So, here's where it's at: Thanks to the remarkable cancer treatments that saved my very life, I have the veins of an 80 year old smoker who apparently has eaten bacon at every meal for the past 60 years. And, the end result is I gotta go talk to a surgeon. And we all know what that means: I'm probably gonna be put under, cut open, have something removed, and maybe something put in its place- as an outpatient procedure. And maybe, just maybe if I'm lucky, get put on some drug that all of my parents' 70 year old friends are taking, for the rest of my life.
If I'm right, I swear to GOD- I am never, ever gonna exercise again. And I'm gonna stuff my face full of beautiful donuts. And my soul will be calm as cool water just knowing despite what the doctor's say, I have remarkable bones.
Next up: Friday's 10:00 AM appointment with poor unsuspecting vascular surgeon, Dr. Lang.....
Though, let's compare and contrast the two dates:
2013, I woke up, showered, kissed my mom goodbye, got an MRI/MRA at Swedish Issaquah and then hopped a NYC bound plane....hung out on the isle of Manhattan and then took off for St. Martin for a full week of bikini clad, rest and relaxation....
2012- I am fairly certain I woke up and showered. I also headed over to Swedish Issaquah- with my mom in tow....and watched my blood pressure hover in the area of heart attack vicinity, as I was plugged in for my very first chemo treatment.
I know...Which two things are NOT like the other?
In 2012, I was working on the whole "trying to stay alive" thing. Whereas in 2013, like Inspector Clouseau I am trying to figure out just what event in 2012 caused my left arm to swell and left hand to hurt like it is on fire....
Now, you know ALL about the messed up, over the phone, shitty diagnosis about my arm dying. And, today you are going to find out that according to this year's test "it appears that there is an area of narrowing involving the subclavian vein that may be accounting for the arm swelling.....the segmental stenosis or occlusion of the proximal subclavian vein is over a distance of about 2.2 cm." Also, "The MRI of the bundle of nerves around the armpit area was fine." And my "bones are unremarkable."
Now, narrowing of the subclavian vein, I can understand....segmental stenosis, I get too. But I draw the line at unremarkable bones. You can say all kinds of stuff about me. But, there is nothing, I repeat nothing, unremarkable about me. I am gonna have to speak to management about editing that document to accurately reflect the character of my bones. Trust me when I tell you- they are remarkable.
Ok- all kidding aside, just what in the hell does all of this mean? Well, Dr. Ani Mai- lady of few words, sent me an email stating: "I'd like to send you to a vascular surgeon to take a look at it." And after reading all of this foolishness, I wanted to reply: "Dr. Mai, I would like to send you to the moon..."
I refrained.
So, here's where it's at: Thanks to the remarkable cancer treatments that saved my very life, I have the veins of an 80 year old smoker who apparently has eaten bacon at every meal for the past 60 years. And, the end result is I gotta go talk to a surgeon. And we all know what that means: I'm probably gonna be put under, cut open, have something removed, and maybe something put in its place- as an outpatient procedure. And maybe, just maybe if I'm lucky, get put on some drug that all of my parents' 70 year old friends are taking, for the rest of my life.
If I'm right, I swear to GOD- I am never, ever gonna exercise again. And I'm gonna stuff my face full of beautiful donuts. And my soul will be calm as cool water just knowing despite what the doctor's say, I have remarkable bones.
Next up: Friday's 10:00 AM appointment with poor unsuspecting vascular surgeon, Dr. Lang.....
Tuesday, May 14, 2013
CANCER: Where it's at....
Hello Gentle Readers-
Sorry it has been a few weeks since my last post. I wanted things to quiet down a little bit, as I needed to observe the passing of the one year anniversary of my cancer diagnosis. And you know, I just wasn't sure how to note it. My usual "go to" of shoe shopping really didn't fit the bill. And well, without that, I was at a loss.
So, I did the next best thing. I shut the hell up and just let it pass. My therapist is a big proponent of "being in the moment." So, I churned up a little bit of that and well...here I am.
Where it's at is this: after a few weeks of B vitamins and probiotics, I am truly feeling better. My left hand still freaks me out, what with the nutty nerve pain and arm swelling. But, I just brought on the very silent neurologist, Dr. Mai. She sure didn't say much during my appointment with her. But boy did she take COPIUS notes. Thanks for that Dr. Mai. I sure as Hell hope she reads 'em....This Friday, I am scheduled to make a special guest appearance at Swedish Issaquah and undergo about 2 hours of testing. Now I know what you're asking: What kinda tests? And the answer is simple- I have no idea. And, even better, I don't really know what she's looking for or even what diagnosis is even on the table. What I DO know is that she finds my case "puzzling." Like that's something new for me....Apparently the sexy combo of arm swelling and nerve pain are really uncommon.
But, you know what? I don't care. You wanna know why? Ok, I'll share: I'm heading outta the country for a week of sun, relaxation and serious love in St. Maarten. Now, before I continue, just dash the notion of Stella getting her groove back. The love I'm referring to is from my dearest, sincerest pal: gay, Jewish boyfriend, Robert and his partner Chris. And, after the ass kicking I've taken on the health and personal fronts, I fear I'm gonna spend the week on those white pristine beaches just crying my eyes out- from being so overwhelmed by all the GOOD.
Yes, the three bikinis are packed along with sunscreen (wouldn't want to get cancer...) and I step on that plane Friday afternoon- before anyone can crash my joy with some shitty diagnosis- and hang out for ten whole days. Away from the hospitals, doctors and tube like medical equipment.
Ok, maybe my souvenir from the Caribbean won't be some luscious, sweet young thing, looking for a green card---that's right, I said MAYBE....instead I am hoping for some peace of mind and being blissfully ignorant of what lies ahead for me.
BLISSFULLY IGNORANT by choice. I highly recommend it.
Sorry it has been a few weeks since my last post. I wanted things to quiet down a little bit, as I needed to observe the passing of the one year anniversary of my cancer diagnosis. And you know, I just wasn't sure how to note it. My usual "go to" of shoe shopping really didn't fit the bill. And well, without that, I was at a loss.
So, I did the next best thing. I shut the hell up and just let it pass. My therapist is a big proponent of "being in the moment." So, I churned up a little bit of that and well...here I am.
Where it's at is this: after a few weeks of B vitamins and probiotics, I am truly feeling better. My left hand still freaks me out, what with the nutty nerve pain and arm swelling. But, I just brought on the very silent neurologist, Dr. Mai. She sure didn't say much during my appointment with her. But boy did she take COPIUS notes. Thanks for that Dr. Mai. I sure as Hell hope she reads 'em....This Friday, I am scheduled to make a special guest appearance at Swedish Issaquah and undergo about 2 hours of testing. Now I know what you're asking: What kinda tests? And the answer is simple- I have no idea. And, even better, I don't really know what she's looking for or even what diagnosis is even on the table. What I DO know is that she finds my case "puzzling." Like that's something new for me....Apparently the sexy combo of arm swelling and nerve pain are really uncommon.
But, you know what? I don't care. You wanna know why? Ok, I'll share: I'm heading outta the country for a week of sun, relaxation and serious love in St. Maarten. Now, before I continue, just dash the notion of Stella getting her groove back. The love I'm referring to is from my dearest, sincerest pal: gay, Jewish boyfriend, Robert and his partner Chris. And, after the ass kicking I've taken on the health and personal fronts, I fear I'm gonna spend the week on those white pristine beaches just crying my eyes out- from being so overwhelmed by all the GOOD.
Yes, the three bikinis are packed along with sunscreen (wouldn't want to get cancer...) and I step on that plane Friday afternoon- before anyone can crash my joy with some shitty diagnosis- and hang out for ten whole days. Away from the hospitals, doctors and tube like medical equipment.
Ok, maybe my souvenir from the Caribbean won't be some luscious, sweet young thing, looking for a green card---that's right, I said MAYBE....instead I am hoping for some peace of mind and being blissfully ignorant of what lies ahead for me.
BLISSFULLY IGNORANT by choice. I highly recommend it.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)