Gargantuan

Today I see the oncologist who is following up about my original rectal cancer. She has been busy having a baby, and now that she her daughter is five months old, she is back seeing patients.

I decide to do a test run. Now that the chemo is over, I want to start getting back into the swing of things, so I decide to drive myself to the appointment. I know I am post prednisone, but I want to find out where my limits are now and whether I can push through anything.

I plan ahead. Leave early enough so that if I have to sit in the parking garage for a few minutes to recover my strength, I will have time. I figure that the drive there is a quarter of the demand, the walk to the office another eighth, the appointment another quarter, the walk to the car another eighth, and the drive home the last quarter. I know where the benches are where I can rest if need be. I pace myself.

I am shaky going out to the car. It takes everything I have to just walk down the stairs. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. I sit in the car and munch a few animal cookies. The shakes stop.

I haven't driven in ever so long. I pay extra attention, staying in the right lane and moving only just at the speed limit, not worrying about cars that need to drive faster. It's only a short distance to Exit 17. I am OK.

I don't need to sit in the parking garage, so I walk slowly to the elevators on Orange 3 and push the button shielding my hand from germs using my tee shirt.

Uh-oh. The walk from the elevator to the clinic becomes daunting. I do my best to stay out of people's way because I am walking so slowly. You know you are in bad shape when a 90 year old man whizzes past you and then looks back sympathetically. Sheesh.

I make it to the strategically placed bench at the entrance of the Cancer Clinic and sink down gratefully for a few minutes until my jello legs regain solidness. I am still OK. Somewhere inside, my body is getting the message that the gates need to open so I can draw on the reservoirs.

At the registration desk, I encounter a little old couple who move at the pace of tired snails. Not because they feel ill, they are just old and slow. One sentence takes forever, and the husband and wife each take their time about checking in, losing their parking ticket (I could have told them it was in his wallet), asking repeatedly about their new insurance card.

I couldn't manage to stand long enough for them to finish, even with leaning on the railing. I finally sat down until they completed their transactions, then approached the desk, leaning heavily on the counter while I checked in.

It was delightful to see the doctor, who didn't fuss around. She was most sympathetic about what I had undergone since last we met, and happy that the tests had finally revealed the problem.

She patted my shoulder and indicated that my CEA levels were excellent and that she would not put me through anything else today, but wait until next time we met. She said there is still no sign of the rectal cancer (yeah!!!) and that she would see me again in 6 months for a followup.

Done! I made my appointment for March 2010 and slowly headed back to the parking garage. I thought I could make it to the elevators, but ended up resting in the chapel on the way out. Not a bad place to rest!

It took gargantuan effort to navigate on my own, but I did it! It felt like trying to maneuver one of those cranes in a machine of prizes, trying to pick up a tiny ring. Awkward, but with enough persistence, it can be done. Somewhere on the drive home, an extra bonus of energy appeared.

All in all, it wasn't so bad. I didn't end up panting on the couch totally done in either. Maybe tomorrow I should try another field trip!