I have made and continue to make no secret of the fact that when it comes to my monthly doctor’s appointments, there is a heightened sense of panic about my aura. I used to call it Bad News Wednesday, until try moved my appointments to Thursday.
Today, is a Thursday and I was not panicking about my appointment. It was a non appointment, just a check up before my biopsy and The Decision. The only thing extraordinary about my appointment was the fact that it was earlier than I would have liked at 10:00hrs (to accommodate the festival obviously). I even showered before Housemate left for work this morning. Extraordinary.
Everything about my arrival to the Clinic was normal. I was late. I did not get my favourite blood taking people, even though I crossed my fingers and I had to sit next to people much older than me, with at least two of who where incredibly hard of hearing with weak bladders. A Senior Medical Person even asked A Not As Senior Medical Person for assistance is a less than subtle way, which I suppose was acceptable because the patient in question was deaf. Oh and the clinic was running later than me. I was calm.
My tranquility was interrupted however when a medical person greeted me with these fear inducing, palpitation producing words:
“I thought your mum was coming today?”
And why oh why did she need to come? That appointment is a month away? What they hell were they going to tell me? What’s going on? This is it. Bugger. Bugger. Codswallop.
And then I got to wait another half an hour before I got my answers…. Thirty long minutes, during which I pondered over sending several frantic text messages, to prepare people for the worst. I inhaled the stale cigarettes and alcohol smell stuck in the denim on denim outfit worn by the man on the more comfortable seat to my left. I started to sweat. I listened to commercial hip hop and pretended, internally, that I was Miley Cyrus. I waited. I was anxious. I braced myself…
… And, after all that, I need to prepare myself for the likelihood that I will be having more treatment come November. It will probably be Velcade alone. I anticipated this. Phew. It’s not the miracle, it’s not the long awaited end to this volume, I’m beginning to think that will not happen, but it is doable. I do not think a full course of treatment would be.
That was it. A whole lotta something over nothing. Funny thing though, my relief was and is bittersweet…. Always bittersweet.
In other news, my hot flushes cannot be treated by haematology, which means that I will be having more hot flushes. Great. Zometa continues to be forbidden. Great.