Lung update is that well, they flunked. AND more importantly, I FLUNKED them. But there was some interesting twists and turns that got me to this moment...
Last week I started off pretty happy, as already I had dropped 5 LBS
from the prednisone taper. That was getting me back in the zone of my normal
weight range. (Old girl in the MD office tried to add a .4 to the end of
that number...I called bullshit on that and told her to round that shit
down like we learned in grade school. She did. AWESOME!) But that
happiness was short-lived....
Last Wednesday the good Dr. Matdes phoned to let me know that I needed to jump back on prednisone, as the lung biopsy showed no infection. However, instead of pumping me full of all that crap, Matdes is taking a different approach. He's putting me on only 20 mgs of prednisone with a very small antibiotic chaser. Apparently when you mix prednisone with certain antibiotics the prednisone is more effective- but at a much lower dose. For that I say: thank YOU, because my poor body could use the break. But there was a catch. He asked me to hold off on taking the prednisone until Friday, because see, I was scheduled to take a lung test at 10:30 Friday AM. He wanted me drug free to allow us to establish a base line. Now of course, he DID say that I could take the drugs earlier if necessary. But you know me. I'm a BOSS and was all- "No...I GOT this. I can wait."
Now you KNOW I know better than that. And of course, I woke up Friday morning- literally panting like a dog because I couldn't get enough air into those stupid little sacks. I felt like one of my kids was sitting on my chest. They weren't. I checked. So, I did what any rational divorcee would do- I phoned my ex and asked for a ride to the ER.
Now look- there's a reason that dude is my ex. He literally drove me up to the doors of the ER- slowed down juuuuuuust enough for me to hop out and sped outta there like his ass was on fire. I wasn't the least bit concerned because well, my primary issue was breathing. And I figured I'd find a ride home eventually. (I did! Big love to Sharon Carroll and Laurie Coaston, btw!)
Due to my change in line-up, I now go to the UW Medical Center for my care. And their ER docs are so smooth! They took one look at my file, realized WHO they were dealing with and just let that shit flow. They figured out that I'll be a regular. They trust that I know what I'm panting about. And they know to call the big dogs in right away because shit is SERIOUS. They don't guess. They don't speculate. And more importantly- they don't waste my time. So, I got to hang out for about five hours. The lights were lowered. I was handed some oxygen and some microwaved macaroni and cheese- and left in relative peace. Eventually Dr. M was tracked down. He issued some orders. I followed them and was sent home on my own recognizance.
I am back on the steroids. Due to the lower dose, they aren't working as quickly. But I certainly have some more pep in my step- and cannot sleep for shit. Oh well.
But WAIT- I learned something else about all of this last week.
After dating this dude for about three whole weeks, he went in for the kill. He requested that I commit my dating self to him and only him, remove my online profile, blah, blah, blah....
And wouldn't you know- the very next day he broke up with me- via an email? Not just any email either- a SIX PARAGRAPH email detailing all of my failures and short-comings, not the least of which included my cancer. For REAL! His concerns- and really I got bored so didn't read the whole thing- stated something to the effect of: "Will I need to sit on the couch with you every weekend when you're sick?" And "What happens if you get cancer again? I'll need to say goodbye to you too soon and have to look for a new partner." The HELL? I was surprised and a little bit hurt. I mean- plenty of people told me they couldn't handle my disease when I was actively going through treatment. And I got that. But, I was blown away by someone predicting my future. And more importantly, betting against me.
But I digress. That guy was an asshole. And it was super easy to send him on his merry way.
However, there was another man in the ether. After taking a rest from his little emotional trip (WHAT? DATE? I've been single for five whole years...? What is this black magic called commitment??) he resurfaced. And I was actually pretty happy about it all. Because well, he's kinda special. And let me give you a little glimpse into this one.
While chatting, he saw my lymphatic sleeve poking out of my shirt. He remarked: "You know, that sleeve is kinda like your badge of success. It shows you beat it. You earned it. You're a bad ass." Now, I had never in my mind thought of it like that. It's more a pain in the ass to have to wear. It serves as a reminder of what I underwent. In short, I never took the time to feel empowered by it. However, this guy, (who by the way, in no way defines me) sees it so differently. I don't lose any dating points because of it. If anything my status is elevated. Now, of course I have no idea what any of this will mean or where it will lead. And well, who cares? He loves steak and so do I. So, I'll hang in there...
But I guess I blog all of this to say- human beings will continue to surprise the shit out of me. And for that reason alone I think this makes life worth living.
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