The tedious part of addressing my adrenal tumor started to sink in during the days following my initial diagnosis.
I have to take a subway to a bus just to go to the hospital or to Dr. E‘s office. Going home or to the office from the hospital is even more awkward. There’s a lot of walking and waiting and, given both the mass and the heat, a lot of sweating (I have no idea why the man seen at this link is smiling because I am not smiling).
I have time to think about the tedium as I walk to the lone CVS in my neighborhood, wondering why it’s one of the few places in all of NYC that doesn’t deliver. (I later found out that they do deliver, but it’s kind of a secret and they like it that way).
Day by day, there are frustrations.
Answering my [wonderful, worried and well-intentioned] Mom’s question of “any news” when I don’t have anything to tell her.
Learning that the blood work results are in, but inconclusive and that said results mean I need to have another test that is gross enough I don’t want to think about it before surgery can be scheduled.
Knowing that the results of my many pre-op tests won’t negate the need for surgery, or even tell us exactly what the mass is. The tests only show my doctors how to prepare me chemically for surgery. Everything else will be a mystery until post-op.
Trading endless voice mails with the one person who can schedule the ultrasound I need to rule out other sources of my abdominal pain. Eventually having the awkward, uncomfortable procedure and getting the good news that there’s nothing wrong with my Lady Parts, but wondering why the heck I have pain.
Having an incredibly kind pulmonologist pull strings to schedule your lung CT scan for the day after your first appointment with her…which means the one day you thought you were going to be able to avoid a trip to the hospital, you can’t. And having to pay the $45 copay two days in a row. But the lung nodules are revealed to be “nothing” so the extra trip to the hospital was worth it.
May all my news continue to be good news. I need some relief.
I suspect that some of you find it strange that I’m sharing so much about my experiences. I get it. Sharing life this way isn’t for everyone.
But for me, writing about what I am going through, as I did during the sad loss of my father, helps me enough that, frankly, I don’t care much if I’m judged for it.
Know that I’ll understand if you choose not to keep up with my story.
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