I find Saturdays crowded, what with needing to clean the house, gather supplies, fill the larder, attend Drew's soccer games, do the laundry, prepare for Sunday, etc. It didn't help this week that the coach told everyone to be at the other school's field at 9:30 for a 10:30 game, when in fact the game was at 1:30 and we didn't need to be there until after noon. I had the dubious joy of driving 4 boys there.
We wondered that there was no one else about. Then when we were informed that the game was in the afternoon, we had to decide whether to just stay there (and go out to eat) or whether to go home (half hour drive) and come back. But I needed to run errands and the bank closes at 1, so I made them all go home. It doesn't help my ranking in the car pool, let me tell you!
I got them back an hour before game time, and set out my camp chair, took out my knitting and settled in for some serious quiet time. Alas! It began to pour, and I didn't have an umbrella on me. It had been so gorgeous in the morning, I hadn't thought it necessary. I used to carry one in the car, but it had broken and I tossed it.
I packed up my stuff, and headed for the nearest store to get an umbrella, preferably one I could clip to my chair so I could keep on knitting! By the time I returned, there was no parking left anywhere on the school grounds. I grumbled as I parked a half mile away and walked through mud to get back to the field, lugging my chair, my new handy dandy weather channel huge sports umbrella, my bag of knitting, and my jacket.
It had rained just enough to make it humid and sticky and bring out the gnats. I finally managed to make my way to where the car pool Moms sat, missing the kick off and the first 2 scores of the game. Still not making any brownie points. They are not happy with my knitting during the game, but I don't care. Drew only plays about ten minutes, and I watch him. Otherwise, I knit and keep abreast of things as best I can. I suppose I am rather rude.
I was quiet and concentrating, but I couldn't help overhearing the conversations going on between the car pool Moms. Oh, my goodness. Grumbling and complaining and whining like I haven't heard in a long time. I have forgotten what it is to be a stay at home Mom, and even then I was busy home schooling and trying to keep bread on the table.
I am beginning to see that even if I were perfect (which of course I am not) these women would not be happy with me. They are unhappy about many things, most of which they can do nothing about. I am glad I have not tried to placate them at the expense of acting like a phony.
I can't imagine how they would have felt if they had driven all the way to the other side of the city only to be told that the game time had been changed. Funny they didn't seem to notice that I had experienced that. Nor did they care. They were just grumpy that they had had plans to leave town to go to their weekend cabin, and now they would have to get there late.
I make a note. Count your blessings. Be happy that you have a car that works well and time to make a change in plans and money to buy a new umbrella. AND you don't have to clean a weekend cabin, deal with the dog, or take the boat out of the water for the season. How lucky can you get?
Saturday, October 6, 2007
Friday, October 5, 2007
Colonoscopy
Prep for this test might actually cure the common cold! Basically you empty out your entire intestinal tract, then take pictures of it. Some way to make a living, I say. I woke at my usually early hour, despite the fact that my ride wasn't coming until 9:45. I read my Bible, prayed, showered, and rested in the easy chair. At 8 I called Dr. Mohile. Her office doesn't open until 8:30. I listen to some choral music - settings of Psalm 23 mostly. I call again at 8:45. She doesn't arrive until 9:30. They will give her the message. I tell them I am headed for the hospital for the colonoscopy. They write it down.
I wasn't planning on taking my cell phone to the hospital - they tell you not to take anything valuable. But I don't want to miss her call, so it goes in my pocket. We arrive in plenty of time, I check in, get two bracelets (there's that wonderful little allergy red alert again) wait a few minutes in the waiting room with my friend Peg. She is knitting a prayer cloth for me - a beautiful multicolored yarn with 3 crosses outlined in the middle of it. She shows me a new way to cast on stitches. I do it several times. I probably will have to have her show me again.
I am called. The process begins. Height, weight, medical history. Change into a gown, put all your belongings into a plastic bag. They are concerned about my blood pressure, hovering in the 200 vicinity. The whole routine about bad veins crops up, once again taken seriously. They put hot packs on my hand, lower my arm, put a blood pressure cuff on my upper arm and make it not too tight. She gets it first stick. Its good. My blood pressure drops to a comfortable 128. Gee, nerves sure can wreak havoc on your system.
An intern introduces himself and asks about my medical history. I start to tell him when the doctor enters the room. It is the first time I have met her. She is young, competent, full of life. I like her right away. She listens as I continue the story. She asks if I have had other tests done yet, then proceeds to the computer to have a look at the PET and MRI results. They are talking and laughing and discussing what they are seeing.
"There's the brain. Nothing there." [I wonder if that means I am dumb?] Suddenly they move close together so that I can't see the screen. Their voices drop, and I can't hear what they are saying. That can't be good. Perhaps they are looking at someone else's records - maybe the patient they just got done with. All in good time. I will know what I need to know when I need to know it.
She comes over to the gurney and touches my arm. "I just looked at your scans. There is nothing in the colon area that concerns me. I just want to let you know that if rectal cancer returns, it usually doesn't show up in the rectal area a second time. I don't think we will find anything to worry about, but if we find a polyp or any abnormality, we will address it today. We will remove and biopsy if need be. Let's get started." She give the nurse instructions about how much drug to give, I feel the burn in my arm, I relax.
I know most people sleep through their colonoscopies. I never have. I am pretty much awake and watching the show for the whole thing. Its glorious to see your insides displayed on the screen in front of you in living color. The camera snakes this way and that, the light casting shadows sometimes. I ask if she sees my deadend pouch, she says yes and shows me on camera. I ask if she sees any adhesions, she says no - and no polyps either. Everything looks very good.
"I don't see any reason to do another colonoscopy for at least 3 years. I am glad, but I also remember that the Yale doctor said the same thing, then ordered one two months later. I go to recovery. The get out of jail card is the ability to pass gas, and I am happy to comply. They make me a warm cup of green tea and give me a packet of animal crackers. I can go.
On the way home, my cell phone rings. It is Dr. Mohile. Turns out the scans are showing the same 2 spots that the Yale doctors saw, plus more. She had called me to bring me in for biopsies, then had spoken with some of her colleagues. They think the problem is in the lymph glands. They advise not to biopsy yet, but to repeat the tests in 6 weeks and see what is happening. She is concerned that I know before my appointment with here that the tests were not all clear.
We will talk about options on the 12th. We will get to the bottom of it. Then we will decide what to do about it and when. I only know I have to make sure that I have done everything I can do to put myself in as good a position as I can. Take a deep breath, go home and eat something juicy. The tough stuff is over - at least for awhile.
I wasn't planning on taking my cell phone to the hospital - they tell you not to take anything valuable. But I don't want to miss her call, so it goes in my pocket. We arrive in plenty of time, I check in, get two bracelets (there's that wonderful little allergy red alert again) wait a few minutes in the waiting room with my friend Peg. She is knitting a prayer cloth for me - a beautiful multicolored yarn with 3 crosses outlined in the middle of it. She shows me a new way to cast on stitches. I do it several times. I probably will have to have her show me again.
I am called. The process begins. Height, weight, medical history. Change into a gown, put all your belongings into a plastic bag. They are concerned about my blood pressure, hovering in the 200 vicinity. The whole routine about bad veins crops up, once again taken seriously. They put hot packs on my hand, lower my arm, put a blood pressure cuff on my upper arm and make it not too tight. She gets it first stick. Its good. My blood pressure drops to a comfortable 128. Gee, nerves sure can wreak havoc on your system.
An intern introduces himself and asks about my medical history. I start to tell him when the doctor enters the room. It is the first time I have met her. She is young, competent, full of life. I like her right away. She listens as I continue the story. She asks if I have had other tests done yet, then proceeds to the computer to have a look at the PET and MRI results. They are talking and laughing and discussing what they are seeing.
"There's the brain. Nothing there." [I wonder if that means I am dumb?] Suddenly they move close together so that I can't see the screen. Their voices drop, and I can't hear what they are saying. That can't be good. Perhaps they are looking at someone else's records - maybe the patient they just got done with. All in good time. I will know what I need to know when I need to know it.
She comes over to the gurney and touches my arm. "I just looked at your scans. There is nothing in the colon area that concerns me. I just want to let you know that if rectal cancer returns, it usually doesn't show up in the rectal area a second time. I don't think we will find anything to worry about, but if we find a polyp or any abnormality, we will address it today. We will remove and biopsy if need be. Let's get started." She give the nurse instructions about how much drug to give, I feel the burn in my arm, I relax.
I know most people sleep through their colonoscopies. I never have. I am pretty much awake and watching the show for the whole thing. Its glorious to see your insides displayed on the screen in front of you in living color. The camera snakes this way and that, the light casting shadows sometimes. I ask if she sees my deadend pouch, she says yes and shows me on camera. I ask if she sees any adhesions, she says no - and no polyps either. Everything looks very good.
"I don't see any reason to do another colonoscopy for at least 3 years. I am glad, but I also remember that the Yale doctor said the same thing, then ordered one two months later. I go to recovery. The get out of jail card is the ability to pass gas, and I am happy to comply. They make me a warm cup of green tea and give me a packet of animal crackers. I can go.
On the way home, my cell phone rings. It is Dr. Mohile. Turns out the scans are showing the same 2 spots that the Yale doctors saw, plus more. She had called me to bring me in for biopsies, then had spoken with some of her colleagues. They think the problem is in the lymph glands. They advise not to biopsy yet, but to repeat the tests in 6 weeks and see what is happening. She is concerned that I know before my appointment with here that the tests were not all clear.
We will talk about options on the 12th. We will get to the bottom of it. Then we will decide what to do about it and when. I only know I have to make sure that I have done everything I can do to put myself in as good a position as I can. Take a deep breath, go home and eat something juicy. The tough stuff is over - at least for awhile.
Thursday, October 4, 2007
The Scary Call
You know when you get a voice mail from your oncologist directly, there's something amiss. I had been teaching all morning for an honors Freshman class. Their faculty person was at a conference and had invited me to come and help make sense of the multitude of resources they will need to explore while researching their papers.
I enjoy working with people on a mission who really want to know that Google scholar is a better resource than plain Google, and that our own online reference collection is more dependable than the millions of hits their search terms will bring them from the world wide web.
I hurried to return to the library because I was scheduled to work at the circulation desk from noon to one and the reference desk from one to three. Lunch would be late, but that was OK since I was fasting (excuse me, liquid dieting) in preparation for tomorrow's colonoscopy.
I took my cell phone from my pocket just to make sure Drew hadn't tried to reach me, or worse yet, someone in the car pool. I am on the black list for carpool. I made bold to speak my piece about being a single Mom without additional drivers living in my house, and the fact that I work 2 jobs. It was not appreciated that I was indicating that I might not be able to pull my share of the load (even though most of them have 2 or 3 drivers to pull their share of the load and a number of the women are stay at home Moms who don't work 9 to 5 schedules). So I am in the doghouse.
I sure wasn't expecting to hear Dr. Mohile's voice asking me to call her as soon as I got the message, and having her give me her private number and tell me that if anyone else answered, I was to tell them to put me through immediately. Yikes! THAT can strike fear in the heart of the boldest lion. She ended the message by saying that if I didn't get the message until noon, she would be in a conference all afternoon and that I should call her first thing in the morning.
It was just noon. I called the number she indicated, but no luck. It would have to wait until morning. I panicked. Maybe I shouldn't be having the colonoscopy. What if they found a tumor and doing a scope would be dangerous? What if I drank all that yucky stuff, went without food for 36 hours, and then was told not to have the test? What if, what if, what if!
Well, you can't go by the what ifs. Anyways, there was nothing I could do about it, and fortunately both desks were busy and I didn't have to dream up scary scenarios. Once again, I remind myself that I am in God's hands, trust Him. At end of day, I was off my game enough to leave a few minutes early. Thursdays are choir rehearsals, and I had already decided not to drink the yucky stuff until afterwards, but I did go home and have the big meal of the day - green jello. Yeah! Something semisolid.
Choir went well. I enjoyed working up the piece for Sunday - Valerie Crescenz's setting of Psalm 23 for World Communion Sunday. We had a decent flute player join us, and by end of night, it was shaping up nicely.
On to home and the drinking of gallons of 'doctored' Gatorade. I was wrung out - literally and figuratively - by midnight, and slept with the bathroom light on. Just because you don't have to drink anything else doesn't mean you don't have to get rid of stuff. I cat napped between trips, and was beginning to think things wouldn't stop by the time I had to leave. Well, it makes for a good night of praying. If you have to be awake, you might as well use the time profitably.
Tomorrow would come soon enough. And I count myself most fortunate to be in my own place, with a flush toilet that works well, and running water, with soft tissues, and a tube of axle grease to liberally apply. How lucky to be well cared for, with all the amenities, and not just left in the street to die. My bed is comfy, my blankets warm, I am content. Tomorrow I will think about tomorrow.
I enjoy working with people on a mission who really want to know that Google scholar is a better resource than plain Google, and that our own online reference collection is more dependable than the millions of hits their search terms will bring them from the world wide web.
I hurried to return to the library because I was scheduled to work at the circulation desk from noon to one and the reference desk from one to three. Lunch would be late, but that was OK since I was fasting (excuse me, liquid dieting) in preparation for tomorrow's colonoscopy.
I took my cell phone from my pocket just to make sure Drew hadn't tried to reach me, or worse yet, someone in the car pool. I am on the black list for carpool. I made bold to speak my piece about being a single Mom without additional drivers living in my house, and the fact that I work 2 jobs. It was not appreciated that I was indicating that I might not be able to pull my share of the load (even though most of them have 2 or 3 drivers to pull their share of the load and a number of the women are stay at home Moms who don't work 9 to 5 schedules). So I am in the doghouse.
I sure wasn't expecting to hear Dr. Mohile's voice asking me to call her as soon as I got the message, and having her give me her private number and tell me that if anyone else answered, I was to tell them to put me through immediately. Yikes! THAT can strike fear in the heart of the boldest lion. She ended the message by saying that if I didn't get the message until noon, she would be in a conference all afternoon and that I should call her first thing in the morning.
It was just noon. I called the number she indicated, but no luck. It would have to wait until morning. I panicked. Maybe I shouldn't be having the colonoscopy. What if they found a tumor and doing a scope would be dangerous? What if I drank all that yucky stuff, went without food for 36 hours, and then was told not to have the test? What if, what if, what if!
Well, you can't go by the what ifs. Anyways, there was nothing I could do about it, and fortunately both desks were busy and I didn't have to dream up scary scenarios. Once again, I remind myself that I am in God's hands, trust Him. At end of day, I was off my game enough to leave a few minutes early. Thursdays are choir rehearsals, and I had already decided not to drink the yucky stuff until afterwards, but I did go home and have the big meal of the day - green jello. Yeah! Something semisolid.
Choir went well. I enjoyed working up the piece for Sunday - Valerie Crescenz's setting of Psalm 23 for World Communion Sunday. We had a decent flute player join us, and by end of night, it was shaping up nicely.
On to home and the drinking of gallons of 'doctored' Gatorade. I was wrung out - literally and figuratively - by midnight, and slept with the bathroom light on. Just because you don't have to drink anything else doesn't mean you don't have to get rid of stuff. I cat napped between trips, and was beginning to think things wouldn't stop by the time I had to leave. Well, it makes for a good night of praying. If you have to be awake, you might as well use the time profitably.
Tomorrow would come soon enough. And I count myself most fortunate to be in my own place, with a flush toilet that works well, and running water, with soft tissues, and a tube of axle grease to liberally apply. How lucky to be well cared for, with all the amenities, and not just left in the street to die. My bed is comfy, my blankets warm, I am content. Tomorrow I will think about tomorrow.
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