Twisted Underwear

Candace was back in sunny San Diego.  Doug and I were off to see his Oncologist.  I had not met him yet and was anxious to do so.  We were to get the results from Doug's biopsy.

Forty minutes later the doctor sauntered into the examining room.  He didn't smile or blink an eye. Not that there was anything to smile about.

Yes, it was cancer.  Squamous Cell Carcinoma.  (I know those words.  I had one on my hand.)  The doctor briefly explained we would do radiation on the head followed by chemo to the torso.

Our family had been encouraging us to go to a larger facility, somewhere more renowned.  I asked the Oncologist why we might want to do this.

I must apologize to the doctor.  I didn't, really didn't, mean to get his underwear twisted into a knot! But I did.

We were quickly ushered across the hall to the Radiation Oncologist.  This doctor smiled without his face cracking.  I felt a tiny bit better.

The Radiation Oncologist talked with us for a better part of an hour.  He thoroughly explained things and answered questions.  Doug was scheduled for a MRI and a simulation of the radiation process.

The Oncologist's office was 50 minutes from our house.  We had time on the way home to mull over the visits.

"I didn't like the Oncologist."  I muttered to Doug.

"What was wrong with him?"

"He had shifty eyes.  And he hardly looked at us.  And he didn't really seem to care.  And his face got red and his arms tightened around his body when I suggested a more well known facility.  The Radiation Oncologist was caring and informative though."

We decided Doug should start with radiation and then find another Oncologist.  One whose underwear was smooth and not tied up.

Doug had his MRI and a mesh mask made for radiation.  I inquired if we could save the mask for Halloween.  I'm not sure my husband thought that was as amusing as I did.

The Radiation Oncologist had given us books to read on the process and side effects.  I wasn't interested in reading them.  Way too depressing.  Doug flopped one down in front of me with a strong suggestion I read it.

Five pages into the book I was astonished.  This was not the information the Radiation Oncologist had told us.  I have been known to misunderstand numerous things before.  I searched Doug out and asked him what he had heard.

I was not loony-toon after all.  Doug had heard the same words I had.  I then consulted the all knowing internet.  It was on the same page as the book.

"Doug, maybe we need new doctors.," I cautiously suggested to Doug.

Doug was saved from answering by a duck quacking.  Not really a duck, that's my cell phone ring tone.  It freaks people out!

A blast from the past assaulted my ears.  My sister had been relating our saga to a doctor I worked for eons ago.  He called to say he would certainly suggest a facility such as MD Anderson in Houston.  We could have our doctor call and ask for an expatiated appointment.

That was the turning point.  We made preparations to have medical records transferred to MD Anderson.  The facility had 48 hours to get back to us.

Once again we wait...


Pr. 18.10-The Lord is like a strong tower, where the righteous can go and be safe.  GNB

Off to the Mental Ward

I turned the truck towards Omaha.  My destination was the airport.  Our daughter, Candace, was coming for a week of "get Daddy off the couch" work.  Actually she had planned to visit before we knew of Doug's illness.  Now she had a mission while here.

Doug had borrowed a car to see the Oncologist.  It's not often we have a conflict being a one car family.  I tried to convince him he should take the Polaris.  He could navigate the gravel back roads and be there in no time.  He informed me it was fifty minutes on the asphalt roads.  The gravel roads would take twice as long.  And he would arrive covered in white dust.

We live in the country.  So what if he looks like he lives in the country?

The Oncology appointment was anticlimactic.  The doctor would need to see the biopsy report before doing more than blink an eye.

Tuesday the three of us headed out at 7:00 a.m.  It was biopsy day.  Candace, still on San Diego time, slept all two hours to Des Moines.  I slept off and on.  Who in their right minds are up before 7:00 a.m?  (Except my parents who hop out of bed at 4:00 a.m.  I think they must have found me under the hay mound.)  Doug on the other hand was bright eyed and bushy tailed and probably famished.  He had been fasting since midnight.  I ate my Wheaties in the closet at home so he wouldn't see.

The hospital team was ready and waiting for Doug.  They whisked him away and gave him a darling green and white hospital gown.  He was allowed to keep his pants and shoes on.  What?!  I had never heard of that.  It took all the fun out of it.

Candace and I wandered the hospital and found a McDonalds.  This is my most unfavorite place to eat ever.  I feel my arteries harden as I walk in the door.  Seeing as it was my birthday, we decided I should treat myself to french fries.  If my arteries are going to harden, McDonalds french fries are the way to go.

Doug was being wheeled out of the OR by the time we meandered upstairs.  He was feeling pretty good despite having a needle thrust in his back extracting tissue.  I could hear his stomach growling. He was not allowed to eat or drink for two hours.  We had to worry about an air bubble forming around the lung.  My lips were sealed about the french fries.

A machine monitoring his vitals beeped in our little cubby.  The machine started a piercing beeping sound as Doug moved around.  "Hey, how'd I do that?"  Doug wondered.  He started moving is finger monitor and his body to try and produce the piercing sound again.

"Stop!"  I hissed.  "The nurse is going to come in here and drag your butt to the mental ward."

Soon after I wished he was trying to manipulate the machine.  That's when the pain kicked in.  No one said this would be painful.  Did we ask?  Why didn't we ask?

Pain meds were pushed through the IV with no decrease in the severity.  He was allowed a sip of water to take a pain pill by mouth.  The pain seemed to be increasing not decreasing.

The doctor was summoned.  "Better take an x-ray to make sure the lung hasn't collapsed.  If it has we'll send you home with a tube going out the lung."

Lung collapsed?  Isn't that something that happens in a car accident?  And no one is sending my husband home with a straw sticking out of his lung.  I didn't go to nursing school like my sister for a reason.

The lung was not collapsed.  Doug got a handle on the pain.  The kind nurse took pity on him and brought him a turkey sandwich.  We were sent off to our sweet spot in the country.  There would be six days to wait to see the Oncologist again.

Candace was still working on her mission before she headed home.  We took Doug to the Iowa State Fair.  (Had to see the famous Butter Cow, you know.)  We went paddle boating.  Doug is in fine shape.  I think he thinks Candace and I took turns paddling.  A few pants, some sweating, and we looked like we helped propel that boat.  There were chores around the house to be done-apples fall every night.  BB guns were shot.  All in all it was a fun week.

Even with all the activities the week crawled by.  Doug started having night sweats.  (Is he going through menopause?)  Then the pains started in his head.  (Yes, he has had pains in his neck too. That's from me.)  A gripping pain now and then.  He was a man about it.

"I don't want any medicine."  Men!

And we waited for Monday to roll around to visit the Oncologist...


Pr. 10.25-Storms come, and the wicked are blown away, but honest people are always safe.  GNB

It Was Just a Cough

It was just a cough.  Just a small nagging cough.  Allergies most likely.  Some weight was lost.  Just a pound or two a week.  No cause for alarm. That's how it works when you watch what you eat.

Doug had a short stint at work.  Four weeks.  Much better than six weeks.  A week before he was to return came an e-mail.  Could I make him a doctor's appointment?  He still had that bothersome cough.

I can be a good wife.  I called and made an appointment with his doctor.  The doctor was on vacation. A week after Doug got home was not a concern.  The appointment was set.

Then the second e-mail showed up in my inbox.  I'm still losing weight.  It's starting to bug me.

He may have been gone only four weeks, but he was only going to be home three weeks.  Perhaps I should move the appointment up.  I didn't think he would mind seeing my PA.  I made the appointment for two days after his arrival home.  My PA was a female.  I would think all males would appreciate seeing female medical workers.  They have smaller fingers.

Doug came home from his appointment with my PA pleased with her.  She gave him something for indigestion.  An x-ray was also taken of his chest. It's a nice chest.  I could have told them that without an x-ray.  No one asks me anything.

That afternoon came the phone call from the medical office.  There is a spot on your lung.  Be here tomorrow afternoon for a CAT scan.  Doug was baffled.  I was excited.  "Are they going to take hundreds of cats and run them all over your body?"  He didn't even bother to acknowledge that remark.

He trucked out the next morning for the CAT scan.  That afternoon the phone interrupted us.  It was the PA.  "We are setting you up for a PET scan and a biopsy of your lung.  Be here tomorrow for the PET scan."

That's not how we wanted to spend our 27th wedding anniversary.  I suppose I should have just been happy Doug was home.

Napping is a necessary luxury.  The next day while taking our necessary luxury that darn phone rang again.  It was the nurse.  "The PA wants to see you.  Can you come in this afternoon at 4:00?"

It is never good news to be told to arrive as the last appointment on a Friday afternoon.  Doug and I both mumbled some words we do not usually say.

I appreciate my PA.  She is kind and to the point and doesn't beat around the bush.  "Doug we have your PET scan results.  There is a spot on your lung and adrenal gland and two masses on the brain. The cells point to cancer."

Not quite what we wanted to hear.  Two masses on the brain?  Doug has a Charlie Brown head.  How did those cats find two masses?

The next thought was lung cancer?  This guy didn't smoke-ever.  In fact he runs a fifty yard dash from second hand smoke.

The biopsy was set up for the following Tuesday.  Doug was to see an Oncologist the Monday before.

Then she sent us home.  Now we wait...

But it was just a cough.  A small nagging cough.

Pr. 8.34-The man who listens to me will be happy-the man who stays at my door everyday, waiting at the entrance to my home.  GNB