The Gross Part
This was Friday. A 1:00 appointment where you had to be there at 12:30 which is not a big deal unless you work till 1:00 on Fridays so then you gotta negotiate with someone for coverage. I was lucky with that one.
Very very lucky.
And then there's the-'How about you drive me this morning and then come and get me at noon' sort of negotiation which is also not a big thing except for the frequency of the request which is getting tired. Know what I mean?
But we got there. And went to registration again where we knew the lady from the first go round and then sent down to the basement where we were offered two choices of rooms to wait. One had the TV blaring and the other was really crowded and-dare I say-malodorous. We went with malodorous. That is how much I hate you daytime teevee.
Lotta ladies waiting for mammograms and then groups of three. Like older people with an even older parent sort of a thing. Everyone a little bit frustrated and way off their own turf.
I got called eventually. Followed a young talkative (sigh) woman down a long hallway into a sort of a darkened room. (I was talking to one of my favorite-favorites today about when a person is smart enough to realize they don't have to verbalize every thought that passes through their skull. Like what IS the actual age of enlightenment? 24? 25? Never?)
There were going to be 4 players including me. A nice young resident. The chatty girl on the ultrasound. A sort of a eastern european sounding lady-I think because I couldn't see her-there to read the slides and a tiny female physician from India and me.
I was on a soft bed thing and they shoved a pillow under my shoulders so that I was sorta splayed-neck/arm~wise. I put my own hands under my arse just to make them behave. They sanitized the whole area and that's when my nose started itching like crazy and the Ultrasound girl actually took a bunch of Kleenex and wiped off my nose. (Do you think Oprah has people doing that for her?)
There were a lot of tiny chunks of waiting-where I thought about one of my aunts and in that very moment the lights flickered and in my head-who knows WHAT kicked this into motion-in my head I was hearing my Mah sing: What a Friend We Have in Jesus. So I thought hey-go with it, right? That and a whole lot of diaphragmatic breathing kept me still.(Holding still-in my opinion-is a very underrated skill. I wish I could teach that class.)
The deal was to get cells out of this tiny slippery ball of gunk floating in my thyroid. The right side. And like one of those fish finders you see people using in a lake, they used the ultrasound to find the right spot to poke and poke and poke.(I guess for the heavily tattooed-that's nothing.)
My job was not to swallow or speak and in the end, I even held my breath-just to get it over with. They warned me they might have to make two attempts and they did.
Yeah, it hurt and the whole idea of it was kind of horrible-ish and the tiny doctor from India decided to make the second attempt and I thought to myself as they lowered the table to accommodate her reach-this lady is not going to mess around and she didn't.
The results will arrive in either two days or five and then add in the holiday and we won't hold our breath, yes?
The Sex Thing
"Lack of connection can kill you."
That was the first thing I wrote down. Whoa, huh? When we were driving towards Wellness House, I said, okay we're for sure sitting in the back row and if this guy says that there's more than one way to be intimate, I'm leaving.
We get there. There are two long skinny rows and the back one is completely full.
Here's Philip's take on it:
The price was right. Free parking. Nice teacher. Seating could be a lot worse. Very good teacher. Very lively.
It was an adult version of a health ed course. Today, like for a man, prostate cancer is a main issue. Know what I mean?
Learned that there is an actual place that will help you. A sexual health clinic. This doctor was approachable, contemporary. I mean-53 years old. Can you dig it? Our age. Hard to believe we'd be going to see a doctor that was our age. Of course the doctors at the VA are younger than us.
Hey. Our front row seat for the hour and a half presentation was perfect.
I'm afraid to say he told everyone to 'embrace your journey' three times and the one time he tossed out 'It IS what it IS.' Philip looked at me because he knows I LOATHE that statement because it's never what it is-you can always run further away or get very close and completely change your perspective/duh but I also really thought this dude was the exact perfect person to have this job and everyone in the room was completely tuned in.
We learned that sexual dysfunction happens in 90% of patients after cancer and 60% of women after colon cancer treatment. "A complex, complex thing." he said.
He mentioned Daniel Goldman's Emotional Intelligence and Brene Brown's Daring Greatly(snagged that from the library yesterday). He talked about pleasure and connectiveness (is that a word?) and I think the biggest thing I learned was that if an sex life is something you want after cancer, it's a Very Doable Thing. And if it's something you don't want, that's cool too.
There was a question and answer session after the talk and this one-most hilarious because of their flat flat flat Chicago/midwestern accents-I mean, these people came to participate-did this whole-We can't understand people-you don't feel shy about asking how people like their bacon cooked, or how they take their coffee, right? why would you not talk about how they like things sexually? thing and with that, we came home and installed a chandelier.
Here's a link: