I am feeling shitty, with a little rattiness thrown in.
I had this and that and a madly expensive surgical thing in November and aside from being nearly $5000 poorer I remain steadfastly worn out.
Today we brought out the big guns.
I went to the university oncology and hematology folks, because my family doctor felt that I needed a closer look.
I am not a big fan of doctors and for good reason, having been treated rather badly by many over the years.
Things weren't looking too hot for this appointment yesterday, when at 2:00pm I got a call from the office saying that Dr. Blah, Blah had a conflict and they would need to reschedule.
OH, HELL NO !
Me getting time off requires a minor act of god, so there was just no way I was NOT going to have my appointment.
I had arranged child care.
And I was bloody well going to be seen!
So I went.
I saw a different doctor. A tiny, powerhouse of a woman, doctor, and her giant, well coiffured intern.
They were amazing.
They had read my file, my history, through and through.
All the jumbles and confusions and tests and ultrasounds and ins and outs.
It was amazing to feel known, to feel heard.
I was offered two choices, a "slow infusion" with almost no risk, but taking 8 weeks,
A fast two week, four hour infusion, that carries a risk of anaphylaxis.
but you guys can revive me, right?
yes, we can revive you, I mean we are doctors and nurses.
So you can totally SAVE me, right? If you can SAVE me, then I totally want the fast thing.
I hate needles, a lot, the eight week thing sounds terrible.
That made the doctor laugh out loud.
A full on belly laugh.
The very pregnant intern also laughed.
Her giant belly shook with delight.
Her elegant hair also shook.
I was tempted to inquire who had done such a magnificent job on her bob, but it felt somehow tacky.
So with a tiny handshake, we agreed on the fast track, and then a bone marrow check, just for good measure, in August.