Health Update: 3/1/10

We interrupt your reading of the Multi-Part Travelogue, "Randy and Debbie Visit the Keys," for an important announcement:

We visited our E/N/T doctor today for a regularly scheduled check-up.

(Please note that the following four paragraphs have nothing to do with either the Health Update or the Multi-Part Travelogue. So it's kind of an interruption of an interruption. It's a nice story, but I thought you'd appreciate being forewarned about the logical discontinuity...)

This is the day after the Olympic men's ice hockey final game was played in Vancouver. The two teams involved represented Canada and the United States. The media have been saying for several days now that the men's Gold Medal in hockey was really the only medal that most Canadians cared about, so this game was a Very Big Deal in the Great White North. The score was tied 2-2 at the end of regulation, so the game went into overtime. And the Canadians scored about seven minutes into the overtime period. And even the Canadians -- despite their upbringing -- got excited and yelled and screamed and stuff.

Now, my E/N/T doc is Canadian (graduate of University of Toronto), so Deb and I were curious as we drove to his office whether he would be wearing a Maple Leaf tie or at least something red and white. But he did much better than that. Under his white lab coat, he was wearing a vintage Team Canada hockey jersey -- a real one! It seems that, when he was growing up, a neighbor of his was the dentist for Team Canada, and was always giving him (that is, my doc) used sticks, old jerseys, and so forth. The jersey was looking a bit threadbare, and the sleeves only came halfway down his forearms, but never has there been a hockey jersey worn anywhere with greater enthusiasm and pride.

We told him how delighted we were with the results of the game and getting a chance to see such an auspicious jersey. And he informed us: "My mom never let me play anything beyond street hockey. She insisted I study Latin instead. Learn music. Play piano. Stuff like that."

We're very fond of our E/N/T doc -- yes we are!!

(We now return you to your regularly scheduled interruption.)

After this all-so-pleasant interlude, we got down to business. My doc told me I looked great, and I thanked him much for that. Then he asked me how I was feeling, and I told him about my episodes of tongue biting -- each of which has taken several weeks to heal. He asked if I were biting it when I was eating, and I said no, that it must be happening in my sleep, because I couldn't recall any incident of actually chomping down on my poor, much-abused tongue when I was conscious.

He explained how my reduced production of saliva might be the cause; as, in my sleep, I might be running my tongue around my mouth to distribute what little saliva there is available to keep things moistened. He then prescribed me a drug that is designed to increase saliva production for people in my situation.

After this, he put on a pair of latex gloves, and gave my mouth, cheeks, neck, and shoulders the most thorough examination he'd ever given me. And he told me that he couldn't find any lumps anywhere that might cause concern. (Can we all say "Whew!" together, friends? Here we go: one, two, three... "Whew!" There. That felt good. Thank you!)

He also mentioned that we were probably coming up on the one-year anniversary of the start of this treatment regimen, and that caused us to check on dates. And, in fact, the lump that started this whole process was discovered by my family doc on January 28 of last year. And the major neck surgery took place in April. So yes indeed, we have moved into the one-year anniversary of the series of dates of this journey.

As we were winding up, my doc mentioned something about "five-year survival," which is a term I'd heard before and never understood, so I asked him for clarification. He explained that, if I can make it through five years after treatment with no sign of recurrence, I can consider myself cured.

It was a sobering reminder of the pernicious nature of this disease, but also a reminder to be grateful for today's health, today's friendships, all of today's blessings...

...including a doctor who wears a somewhat faded, somewhat worn, old-style hocky jersey while treating his patients.