I parked at Dana-Farber and walked across the street to the Brigham, getting there exactly on time for my 12:30 p.m. appointment. Then I waited for about an hour. I needed to move along, having also been scheduled back at Dana-Farber for a 3:45 CAT scan of my neck. When I finally inquired about the wait, a woman said that according to her schedule, I was supposed to be there at 7:15 a.m., so they had pushed me back after all the other people who had arrived in the 12:30 vicinity. All I know is the I had been told to arrive at 12:30.
Anyway, somewhere around 2 I finally got in to see a nurse who took my entire health history, all the way back to age 7 when Douglas Lublin, my friend Mary's older brother, gave me an "Indian burn" over the summer at Atlantic Beach.
(Do we still call it that? I don't know. Did the nurse really go so far back? No, but it sure felt like it.)
Then she had to transfer my lengthy list of medications from the computer onto another form. She couldn't pronounce them all, so I had to go over to the computer to help her and explain to her what all these meds were for. Sorry to whine, it just seemed like it took a loooong time. I got an EKG, then she took my pulse and pronounced my heart exceedingly strong. That was good to hear.
I finished with about two minutes to get to Dana-Farber's radiology department, where of course I waited.
The scan is to see if the abnormal cells on my tongue have spread to my neck. It makes me uneasy to use the "C" word here, so I won't. I am sure that this scan is procedural and no reason to climb on the anxiety train, but still, when Monday comes around and I am waiting for a call about the results, I might be a little jumpy.
The CAT scan room is actually very calming, with its ceiling of white clouds on blue sky. I've been under that machine countless times, including back during my hospital stay when I could barely move and they had to slide me from a stretcher onto the CAT scan bed. It was nice to just climb on board.
At least I didn't drive to Boston just for a day of testing. I actually went Thursday night to Brandeis (in nearby Waltham) to see Katie's a cappella group, Proscenium, perform its year-end show. (Then I spent the night at Margaret's.)
This extremely talented group of singers performed numbers from Broadway shows, ranging from funny to poignant. They did such a wonderful job, and what's more, you could see how much fun they were all having and how close they are as group.
And my daughter, what can I say, she looked so beautiful and happy that I had tears in my eyes and a smile on my face for quite some time. Well, to be exact, until those hours in pre-op testing.
Still, I am kvelling.
I love this word. I've used it before, and I'm sure I'll use it again when it comes to all three kids.
3 comments:
No, we now properly refer to it as a " Justifiable Retalliatory Native American Detmatological Conflagration" which, when properly administered by the aggrieved party to the persecutor, results in "Kvelling"...or so they say.
Sorry you went through this. You should whine, everyone should whine about this. This is why the EHR (electronic health record) needs to be a standard part of health care. As one nurse pointed out to me, if someone was to be rushed to an emergency room in a foreign country, one look at their wallet (with credit card) would lead to a wealth of financial information, while their medical history would remain a big blank.
Deborah
I enjoying reading your blog. I like your comment about going back to the Indian burn. I am fighting cancer for the third time and enjoying reading about other battles! I feel the same why when they start asking all the questions about the medical history. for people like us that takes forever
Post a Comment