Thursday, March 17, 2016

Where was I? 

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Yesterday, I was in the bathroom(when I get my nerve up and that might be never-I might mention what happens to one's digestive system in the colon cancer olympics. I don't really remember what my digestive system used to be like and that's just the point-I don't think I had to do a whole lot of thinking about it in the olden days. Now, it's a thing and it's an uncooperative thing. Uggh. So it's like 8:00 in the morning-ish and my phone is ringing. Double Uggh. 

I hate the phone. And mostly everyone knows that, so who's calling me before 9:00? I run through the possibilities which is a very short list. Instead of Publishers Clearing House, I settle on: ewwww mah gawd something must be wrong with my Dad! So that's how I make my approach. In a holy s@#$ sort of a mode. Yeah I know. That's gotta go. My Dad's in better shape than I am. 


It's the surgeon's nurse and she's very: Hey how ah ya tah-day casual. And I'm thinking, hmmm. You might have assumed this tone WHEN WE CALLED YOU LAST WEEK WHEN MY BELLY WAS SPASMING AND I WAS EXORCISTING OFF THE BED. Cuz that day we played phone tag on Day 1 and Don't forget your real friend Mr. Industrial Strength Leftover From September Acetaminophen on Day 2 but whateva, right? 

Roll with it. 

They're just wanting to let me know that my CEA level(That's your cancer cootie level-and if I could give you a bit of health advice, what you'd like to ultimately do is keep this at a level where you never get phone calls about it. Understand?) was 1.5 but is now 1.8 and I am advised: Not To Worry About It

For me, I am thinking, yo. If it wasn't important enough to insert into my over-stuffed stress ball of a cranium, you coudda post-it noted it on my cyber chart for the next time or something, no?  

But that's just me. 

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If it's Monday, It Must Be Thyroid Surgeon Day

We were overwound for this one. We got to the hospital early enough to split an Einstein bagel-turkey, avocado and something else nice that I can't remember sandwich. That's one cool thing about running as a pair of kumquats. You know how portions are Too Big? Ya just split everything. No sweat. Especially of one of you is Not Fussy. (Which is, of course, Not Me. Duh.) 

We get into the exam room and We-and more specifically Philip-were so wired up it was like an instant comedy performance for the poor comedy starved nurse and I don't think there was any pre-intention of jocularity or anything. Maybe it's just too many times finding yourself in the exact same place with the exact same wall paper border that resembles female genitalia kinda like worrying and wondering? I can't say. But We Were Hilarious

Hoo boy. 

And then we sat. In the empty room. For probably like 20 minutes. (I'm guessing. It's all a blur.) And then the resident comes in and we have to start at the very beginning of the story AGAIN. And that goes on for-f'ing-ever. 

One good thing she said was that the scar was healing nicely. I said, yeah? Because I have nothing to compare it to. And she assured us-it's looking very good. Yay. 

She left. We sat again. FOREVER. And here, we start looking at P's watch starting to worry that we're going to be late for our next things. We arrived at the hospital at 1:30 and we left after 3:00. That is. So Long. 

(And that is not to say that the doctor did not thank us for our patience-he did.)

Long story short on this appointment. Speaking only for myself, the way I got through this one was to tell myself that they were just gonna monitor this thang, right? I mean they found it by accident-not because my thyroid was misbehaving or anything, so when the doctor said he wanted to send me for an ultrasound guided biopsy/just a needle in my neck sort of a thing, our faces did this:


I had a hard time with this drawing because I couldn't draw 
our collective jaws dropping to the floor without it looking 
like we were smiling. We weren't smiling. And it was not because of my terrible bangs. 




Then, out comes the helpful diagram of a thyroid, and the little lump of gunk that decided to live there and how they're gonna grab some cells and put them on slides and there's a scale from A->F and what you're hoping for is an A or a B. Okay an A. I want a A. 

And off we ran, now dashing home to change my shirt for Job Number 2. Later I pulled out the diagram and I said Hey look! It's an elephant! 







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1 comment:

  1. Who knew that the thyroid looks like an elephant, I'm a little bit smarter today thanks to you.Also, thanks for writing your blog, as you can see I'm still reading it! I can't imagine when you find time and energy to do it. You are pretty amazing.

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