Time got away from me and I was about six blocks from home when I looked at the clock and realized that in ten minutes I was to be at a committee meeting to choose the next series of films. See Sept. 3's entry, "MOVIE CRITICS"........the Director of Smut couldn't miss a meeting.
I called the hospital, rearranged my schedule, changing it from Thursday to Friday and with three other residents, chose 29 films for the next 7 months. Hopefully, none with foul language or hanky-panky.
Friday dawned and I went first for a CEA test. Three technicians were on hand. I asked which one was going to be drawing blood. They pointed to the girl who looked about eleven years old. "Are you new at this?", I asked. "Yes." "How many times have you done this?" "Five times". Said I, "Well, I really don't want to hurt your feelings, but I'd rather have a more experienced person do this."
So, with that out of the way, off I went to the radiation department, Tim trailing behind, carrying the bag that held everything I might need. What a good sport he is!
I didn't get the x-ray man's name. It seems a very unusual thing for a patient to be documenting a medical experience. Once in a while a person will decline being photographed, but most are cooperative.
Bone scan time........Mr. Tom looked familiar and sure enough he was the one that put me through a machine a year ago for something not related to cancer.
Next came the feeling of "There! That's all finished." I do love that feeling of accomplishment when something dreaded is over.
Tim named me obsessive when I felt the need to tell the admission clerk that there was something under a chair in the waiting area that might be an M&M, but then again it could be a pill. What if a child ingested it?
We left the hospital to find that it had rained in our absence. Tim was so excited that he came close to splashing in the puddles on the way to the car.
When we arrived at the Manor, Mr. Bob greeted us with the news that the surgeon had called to report that the MRI showed more lesions..... this time in both breasts. So much for my feeling of achievement.
Remember the saying that my friend's mother utters during times of stress? "We'll get through this, but we won't ever look the same." I'm afraid that in my case that's all too true. When I was thinking about new clothes, I didn't mean a prosthesis. Be careful what you wish for.