more than 1 1/2 years later:
---------------------------
It's been a long time since I wrote on this blog. Like whistling in the forest, I need to write about my cancer experiences, even if there is noone to read it.
They teach children to list different emotions. Well, I can attest to two, very different, very strong that I experienced over the last few days.
It was time for my bi-anual Petscan. That which decides who will live and who will die.
The appointment was made 6 weeks in advance. The day before, I have to semi-fast and am banned from all excercise (actually, a gift). Near noon, I get a 'phone call from the clinic that does the testing, DCA, that they do not have authorisation for the test. Total panic ensued. Turned out that the clerk in the oncologis's office forgot to fax them the prescription. It took me hours of stressful begging 'phone calls to get her to make the one tiny little call to get the authorisation. When she finally did, it took less than half a minute to get the authorisation.
During the 2 hour test, in which your body is filled with radioactive and other weird substances, I was engulfed in a strong sense of grattitude for the year that I have been given. True, there were ups and downs, but my overwhelming emotion was thankfulness for everything that I have been given.
Upon leaving, I was told that the results would be out either that day, Friday, or Monday. I know that it usually takes minutes for the radiologist to read the test. Friday - no call. My friend, Dr J, told me to 'phone, but by that time, they'd all gone home. So, a worrying weekend. So much so, that I missed my early morning swim on Monday in order to get the 'phone call in first thing they got to work. Oh, I'm told, we faxed the results at 10.15am on Friday to Dr D. Problem was that it was Dr B who asked for the test. So they faxed them over. Then, the real nightmare began. No matter how I begged, Dr B's office would not tell me the results. The more time passed, the more it began to look very bleak and both RR and I were going through the sense of shock that this could be happening again. Eventually, after being clearly avoided for 2 hours, RR suggested that we go to the Doctor's office and tell them that we aren't moving until we get the results. The lady at the window, shut it hard and fast in our faces. We heard her demand over the 'phone "what should I do with them?" as though we were some kind of pestilence or disease that had to be sanitized. Well, after almost another hour, the clerk came out waving a paper "here it is", quite cheerfully. I asked what it meant - after all, I am not qualified to read medical reports. The results were that all is well. No sign of cancer.
Needless to say, when that sank in, I burst into tears and even RR was in tears. To have been put through such hell showed me that the staff, working for a doctor who is dealing with seriously sick people have exactly zero compassion. Their indifference to what we endured was incredible and showed me humanity at a pathetic level. Clerical errors caused me untold anguish from before to after the test and not one person was willing to make the slightest effort to alleviate my distress.
Yes, it's been an incredible year and a half. Rollercoaster. This was one of the downs, that landed up, being an up. Maybe all of life is like that, but cancer is particularly so.
As R said: if it takes 5 years to say I'm in remission, then I am one down, 4 to go.
Wednesday, October 2, 2013
Sunday, August 4, 2013
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