Countdown to my seventh birthday

Five days to my seventh birthday.

The other night I dreamt I was climbing up a steep set of stairs. I was wearing a pair of old flip-flops that were falling apart. The left one especially was in bad shape, and it kept catching on the stair. Also I was having trouble lifting that leg up to climb to the next step. I wasn't sure I would make it.

But then, all of a sudden I was on the top landing. I realized I just had to put on sneakers and I would be fine.

Dream analysis 101: It is hard getting to be where I need to be, and I am worried that something will trip me up, but I realize that I can do it...especially if I have the right kind of sneakers, which is a big theme for me because I'm always trying to find the right kind to keep my toe from hurting and my plantar fasciitis from flaring up.

So maybe all I need to do to make it to Sunday is to wear the right shoes.

But first, I have to get through tomorrow.

I told the supervisor at that horrible Westfield Transport to never ask for me again after the fiasco of two weeks ago. He said OK, but when I got the automated call stating the service that is picking me up tomorrow, it is the same company. Nothing I can do about it now.

I have a double header tomorrow. Dr. Goguen in head and neck oncology at Dana-Farber at 1:30, followed by ECP at 3.

Since Dr. Goguen is only checking my tongue every year now, I asked Dr. Alyea if he and Melissa could just do it. He said no, because she can see things they can't see. So I made the appointment. Then she canceled and rescheduled. And canceled again. I told her nurse that my doctor really thought I should see her, but she said Dr. Goguen had too many things going on to schedule routine appointments. It was a little dissonant to be told by my doctor that I needed to see her and then be told by her office that she couldn't fit me in. I can't remember exactly when the original appointment was, but I think around six months ago.

This was the surgery in which she removed precancerous cells from the left side of my tongue. I'm not really worried because Melissa, Dr. Alyea and my dentist said it looks fine, but still, I would like to hear it from her.

I'm going to have to stop using my left arm at ECP. I like to have my right hand free if I'm using the computer or trying to read a book, but, judging from the trouble I have had with the vein in the left arm the last two sessions, it must have developed scar tissue. It wasn't so bad after my nurse the last time gave me five milligrams of Ativan and five of oxycodone, but I would rather not have the pain in the first place.

The scoop on my tongue

Or should I say, the piece that they are scooping from my tongue?

Whatever, I finally got the decision on what they are going to do about the small area that needs to be removed from my tongue.

It is a little unsettling because it changed from one day to the next, but all things considered it seems to be a minor matter, so I think I am OK with it.

Thursday I got a call from Dr. Trevor, the resident in the oral surgery department at Brigham and Women's. He said the specialist got a chance to look at the biopsy and thought that it would be fine to remove the remainder of the spot at the oral surgeon's office rather than at Dana-Farber. It is more than just pre-cancerous and is in fact a cancer on the surface of the tongue, but it is at a very early stage. He said to make an appointment with Dr. Treister, the attending in the department, for Monday May 2, when I will be in the area for my Dana-Farber checkup.

But yesterday morning, Dr. Treister called and said the plan had changed. He and the other doctors who studied the biopsy would be more comfortable if the surgery is performed at Dana-Farber's department of head and neck oncology. It doesn't change the diagnosis, but the change in venue did slightly crank up my anxiety level. A head and neck specialist will remove a larger portion to make sure the margins are clear. I will also receive a head and neck scan.

It adds another layer to the process. I must first meet with a new doctor and then schedule the procedure. Dr. Treister said the small amount of extra time doesn't matter.

"It's nothing to lose sleep over at this point," he assured me.

"At this point?" I wondered. What's the meaning behind those words? I know, I know, the answer is...nothing. Those are only words that he needs to say, and they don't mean anything.

I told Katie that I get to visit a new floor – the 11th – at Dana-Farber's new Yawkey Center for Cancer Care.

She remarked that it's interesting that a specialty involving the head and neck, the top part of the body, is at the top of the building.

Hmmmmm.

Something to chew on...if I can, what with my missing teeth and the piece cut from my tongue!