Wednesday, August 22, 2012

Whatever It Takes

Today was a crappy, weepy day. It was also Oncologist Day. I managed (barely) to keep the two separate, as it is important to me to be a good patient, and being a blubbering baby wouldn't fit my definition of one. 

The closest I got to letting my "good patient" facade slip was when Dr. Croy asked me how I had been doing, and instead of my usual upbeat, Pollyanna answer of "Great," I just answered, "Okay." The doctor, who had been tappity-typing on his computer, paused and looked at me, then said, "Can you expound on that?"

That's when I threw in the towel and conceded that I might be experiencing some side effects. He asked if I were having hot flashes. I told him they aren't HOT, but they're very warm. Very. And the rest of the time I'm freezing. No blood boiling. No flushing. Just very warm moments, which leave me clammy and cold. He asked about moodiness, and I said it was more weepy than moody. He kindly said he was sorry that was happening and mentioned a drug he could give me (I'm not up on my drugs, so I don't remember what he said it was) that would help even out the moods and control the hot flashes (WARM flashes. WARRRRRM.) Of course, there are side effects with THAT drug as well. I guess the look in my eyes made him say, "Well, you can think about it and let me know later...." 

I will keep up the good fight against side effects (or worsening side effects), because how mixed up is it that I would take a drug for side effects, then have side effects from IT? More drugs for THOSE side effects? It would never end, ever. No, thanks.

The last time I was here, the doctor had alerted me to the fact that he was going to do a breast exam on my next visit, so after he put me through my paces of peering into my eyes and throat and having me follow his finger up, down and around ("Look up, look down, look at my thumb, gee, you're dumb."), he handed me a paper gown and said he would step out while I put it on.  I said, "Wait, I need clarification, because SOMETIMES, I get this wrong. How much do you want me to take off?" He not only said, "Waist up," but also threw in hand motions, lest there was any further confusion.

When the doctor and his nurse came back in the room, I told him I had a place that hurt on the left breast, and while it was probably a plastic surgeon issue, I thought I should tell him about it, since (a) I wasn't going to see the plastic surgeon for another few weeks and (b) he was checking them anyway. It didn't start hurting until after the big H surgery, so I've kind of wondered if it had to do with being jelly-side down on the operating table (not thinking about it, not thinking about it, NOT THINKING ABOUT IT). And it's weird that it hurts in the only place I have any sensation  AT ALL. It feels as if I have a really bad bruise, but there isn't anything visible there. He didn't find anything suspicious on either side from an oncology point of view, although he said there might be a build-up of fluid where I'm feeling the pain, but it wasn't anything that couldn't wait until my appointment with the plastic surgeon. Exam over, and it wasn't TOO terribly awkward that the guy I sit next to every Sunday at church just felt me up. (It's a good thing that his true brilliance intimidates me enough that, for once, I have found it wise to keep my mouth shut and not to make any smart ass comments to him about any of it.)

Then, it was off to the infusion center for my injection, where I got to see the lovely SueAnn for the first time in two months and was given my injection by Karrie, who again told me I didn't have enough tummy to pinch for the shots (I love her so).  

Think System. Happy thoughts. Positive energy. Whatever it takes, I'll do. Gotta stop being Joe Btfsplk.

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