Health Update: 5/2/10

I wanted to hold off on saying anything about my health until today, because I had an appointment with my E/N/T guy this morning. Which I'll explain in a bit. But first:

"What was that all about?" revisited:
Last Tuesday, the 25th (at least we think it was Tuesday...) I had a follow-up appointment with Nurse Vicki at our family doctor's practice. (We think Vicki is wonderful!) Over the weekend, a nurse friend of ours had suggested that the non-appendicitis episode I'd had the previous week was due to the aforementioned -- and newly discovered -- gallstones. Like, when you pass a gallstone, it can be painful. So we made that suggestion to Vicki.

She was not crazy about that idea, because the symptoms did not sound like passing a gallstone. But she didn't have any better idea, and told us to consult with a surgeon, who would have a more informed opinion.

And wouldn't you know that the guy she recommended was the fellow who installed (and later removed) my food tube. Small world is medicine in the West Chester community. But she did recommend him very highly, and I really can't complain about him yanking the food tube out of my tummy with no warning. As described in gruesome detail in a posting from last year. I mean, he told me exactly what he was going to do. Yanking the tube out and all. And I was just shocked that he was telling me the unvarnished truth. I thought he was kidding. More fool me.

Anyway, we made the appointment, and the surgeon could not have been more understanding and supportive. He had me lay back on an examination table as he probed and prodded and poked. He told me that he had found a small hernia -- something else I was unaware of. I mean geez, what else is going to show up? And when? Gallstones. Hernias. Where does it end??

Anyway, he also said everything else felt normal and he seemed genuinely pleased that his probing and prodding and poking had not caused me any pain whatsoever.

After I described the "non-appendicitis" episode at the Hospital the previous Friday, he said that it was an "unusual presentation" of a gallstone attack. Meaning he wasn't at all convinced that the stones were any part of the problem.

Medical jargon, I guess. "Presentation." Geez.

Then he said that removing the gall bladder would not be difficult -- that the procedure was "laparoscopic," which meant several small incisions, an overnight stay in the hospital, and a quick recovery. But he also said that there was no immediate need for the procedure, except that, without the operation, there was a minor chance that the gallstones might cause some serious difficulty in the future. Further, that any future pain like I had felt on Friday would dictate the immediate removal of the gall bladder. "Presentation" or no.

And then he said, "While I'm in there, I can fix that hernia." He sounded, for that moment, much more like an automobile mechanic than a doctor. Like "While I'm replacing the head gasket, I can clean the jets in your fuel injectors and check the valve clearance." That kind of stuff. An amusing moment, I guess, if you have some psychological distance from the procedure...

Anyway, I decided not to go ahead with the gall bladder operation at this time, and told him so.

And we shook hands. And he wished us a good summer. And we parted friends.

So, in answer to the question, "What was that all about?" there still is no resolution. Sigh...


Today's Visit with the E/N/T Guy
I guess my feelings leading up to this visit will be a common phenomenon for the next couple of years. I mean, I feel fine. People tell me I look fine. But then, I felt fine just before the initial diagnosis of cancer. So what good did that do me?

I hadn't seen my E/N/T guy in months. What had my body been doing since the last visit?

There is this post-cancer syndrome. Perfectly understandable. As the days dwindle down towards an appointment like this, the anxiety level subtly ratchets up. And that comes to a head on the morning of the appointment: What will I do if he finds something? What will he say? How will I feel? Will I break down in tears in his office? What treatment options are left after the "full-court press" of treatments last year?

But my E/N/T guy is so comfortable to be around. Comfortable in his own skin. Comfortable with the job he's doing. Thirty seconds with him and you're just plain... comfortable. And you become cognizant of the truth -- that your anxiety won't help the situation at all, but might make it worse by stressing your mind and body unnecessarily.

So he probed and prodded and poked my head and neck. Inside and outside my right cheek. Then my left cheek. Up and down my neck. He peered into my nose, my ears, down my throat.

And declared that there was no sign of anything unusual. Then he told me that I looked great.

And we shook hands. And he wished me a good summer. And we parted friends.


And, oh by the way, in regards to the Friday at the Hospital episode reported previously, I forgot to mention something really important: the area of interest that day was my abdomen. Of course. But this was an area that had never been scanned since the start of my treatment. And every now and then over the last 8 or 9 months, an irksome little voice that inhabits in my paranoia would suggest that, if the cancer had metasticized to my liver or any other organ down there, no one would know it. Because no one had checked in on that area.

So the entire episode had, for me, been a big success. I had been scanned with sophisticated medical equipment; not once but twice (the CAT scan and the sonogram) and had come out clean.

And so, dear friends, I continue to get the best of all possible reports from my medical team. And it such a pleasure to share this information with all of you.

I am well.