The report

I had been told that the James P Wilmot cancer center has most of their appointments on Fridays, and that the place would be crowded, the waits long. Indeed, there were more people about, but this was nothing compared with Yale or Illinois. Maybe they managed their patient load more carefully. Maybe they have more competition. Whatever the reason, though the waiting area was somewhat full, there were still chairs to sit in.

It was less than ten minutes before a nurse called my name and took me in the back for the requisite measurements. But no second waiting room back here. I was shown directly to an examining room. And there, yes, a wait. I didn't consider 45 minutes too bad.

I was struck once again by how young the doctor is, how mature and competent, how upbeat and cheerful she was in the face of what I am sure is a difficult and depressing environment. We could have been planning an excursion on the Riviera by the tone of our conversation.

Instead, we were puzzling over the strange spots showing up on my scans, the same spots that the oncologist at Yale had puzzled over. Dr. Mohile had no way to compare them with what Dr. Saif had seen since I STILL can't seem to get the actual tests sent to them. I renew my determination to call the clinic yet again and ask for that CD. How hard can it be?

She had spoken with other specialists, and they definitely advise followup. The options? It could be an anomaly, nothing cancer related. It could be rectal cancer presenting in the lymph nodes. Not the usual path for rectal cancer to go. It could be lymphatic cancer - more serious than metastasis of the original cancer. I opt for anomaly, Dr. Mohile opts for biopsy.

She is not sure we can actually get one because, as we discovered at Yale, the spots are not palpable. You can't biopsy what you can't find. But she decides to try an ultrasound based biopsy. The spots are still small - 1 cm. If this *is* cancer, we get it early. If we can't get the biopsy, we redo the scans in 6 weeks.

Same story. I am tiring of the chase. But I cannot afford to ignore it. Drew needs me for at least another 5 years. Maybe more. So I sigh and take the paperwork to the check out desk. They will call me.