Thursday, February 18, 2016

Steve Harvey headlines at the doctor's office. 
You cannot escape him. 



Verily I say unto you: I had cancer surgery on September 15th, 2016. (Stage One. Colon Cancer.) I mention this again, because my Children's Book writing team cruised this very blog and weren't 100% sure what the topic was. I really like those people very much, because it requires bravery to tell someone you're not exactly sure what they're on about, and seeing as this is four months-ish after my hospital escape, it makes sense to re-introduce it. Oui? 

I have never thought of myself as 'fighting cancer'. I believe my surgeon ripped the holy living shit out of my colon and the other surgeon tore my offending adrenal gland to infinity and beyond ('Holy living shit' used here as a technical term. I don't really like swear wording on the internet but you'll indulge me, won't you?). They say the 4 month appointment sometimes comes with panic attacks. I'm still firmly in the anger phase. 

Dammit. 

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New Primary Care Guy! New Primary Care Guy! 

The last straw with my former Primary Care doctor was this: She burst into my work day with the news that I might have a blood clot in my lung, right?  They gave me yet another set of blood tests in the Emergency Department and after the weekend, I dropped her an e to ask if she'd reviewed them. I mean, why did we do this if we weren't checking on something, right? 

She never checked. She said I had to ask for some form or something to permit her to see the results but that was the first I heard of it and I thought, Come On People. You start this nonsense and you don't follow up? 

It's not a game-these hole pokes in my arms, ya know? 

She's gone.

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I asked the skin doctor for a referral to a new Primary care. If you will recall, when my skin broke out with that HSP weirdness-or as we call it-The Dots, my Primary Care told me it would take me a few days until I could get in to see this doctor that was completely hard of hearing. He took ONE LOOK at my legs and said I should be seen on the University Level. 

I thought to myself, okay so, why-oh-why-oh would I ever waste time (and cash-it was 50 for the primary care's failure to take action and 75 for the deaf guy) NOT being seen on the University Level. 

F that shit. 

She came back with a list. I watched the first physician on the list's little movie. At Loyola, they have these little internet movies of some of the doctors. They're very revealing. 

We went last Friday. 

P was extra silly. He brought his chocolate milk, his two newspapers AND his Snickers bar into the exam room and he wanted to refill my water bottle in the sink where the doctor's wash their hands. 

I got all psycho-like my Mother before me-whispering: If you don't stop it, r-r-r-r-right now.....

Anyway, I already liked the new doctor and here's why: I have had a bajillion tests, right? Urinalysis and a-half-o-rama and so many blood tests-you would not believe it. The day before the appointment, I emailed him to ask if he could have a look at the results. 

That was kind of presumptuous of me, now that I think about it, but I thought it'd be a really good idea-if all of that information already existed-if coming into the appointment-he could have already had a peek at it. 

He did. So cool.

Also seriously cool was watching him think. The last primary care would whisk herself out of the room-now I'm thinking she had to go check google-ooh that's really mean, isn't it? Withdrawn. Sort of. 

Anyway, I have to say, I heard more about my general health in this one appointment than I have heard in my entire life. It was even kind of a lot to handle actually. Kind of still sorting everything out. 

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Kidney Specialist. 



Because of that HSP infection, my kidneys had to be monitored. So, every other week, after finishing my last massage shift, I'd fly over to Loyola and pee in a cup. This has been my life. Regular work weeks capped off by doctor's appointments. So infuriating. 

We did have a little bit o fun at this one. We were in the waiting area-we were supposed to be what's commonly known as 'next'. Yeah, right. 

There was this dude and I heard the name caller tell him that his doctor was running behind. An hour behind. His name was Armondo.

Well, I guess she sped up or something because they started calling him to come in? And he wasn't there. 

So, in our waiting room chairs, we started to quietly sing to the tune of 'Fernando' by ABBA, our very own lyrics that I can't repeat because they were really, really, really rude. 

We have lost the ability to behave. 

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Another Resident/ Another Doctor. 
The Kidney Resident was interesting. The best moment was when we were discussing my former leg dots and I propped my feet up on Philip's lap and we're all looking at all the decorative configurations on my ankles. He was also willing to look at my iPhone photos and I think that's really smart-ya know-almost like scene of the crime sort of stuff, right? 

She-is supposed to be one of the finest doctors on the planet-but by the time we saw her-we kinda already knew we were in the clear-kidney~wise so it was no big thang. 

Except the chomping of more of my time on the planet. And the endless, endless co-pays. 

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That was a lot of words, huh. Thank you for your time. 

Next episode: The Visit to the Surgeon and another try at Hypnosis. 





















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