Hi. I’m Kate. Turn ons include IV drips, PETscans, and organic fig newtons. Turn offs include whining, hospital gowns, and artificial sugar.
Let’s see how much life I can squeeze in between work, chemo, sleep, and scans.
Judy
Ms. Paxton? I’m Judy. Follow me. (Oh, great. Here we go.)
I assumed she was talking to me since I was the only person left in the waiting room. I followed her down the corridor where construction workers looked up and gave me a smile. I wasn’t in the mood to flirt, so I just stared ahead, focusing on the faded cartoon cats on Judy’s scrubs.
‘Strip down to your underwear, put the gown on, and lay down on the table in the examination room.’ I got the distinct feeling that I was keeping Judy from her Friday happy hour. She was already thinking about her strawberry margarita and saw me as the last obstacle before she headed to the bar. I nodded and did as she instructed. (Crap. Does the opening go in the front or the back?)
I instantly hated the examination room. The one piece of artwork was as blasé as the gray and beige dappled wallpaper. I wanted to flip the piece over to see if the cardboard backing offered more visual interest, but my growing fear of Judy outweighed my curiosity. (Shhh…I think she’s coming.)
After confirming her happy hour plans, Judy strolled into the room. Without warning, she pulled open my gown and squirted gel all over my stomach. I felt a little queasy as the goo started to drip down my sides. (I can’t believe I thought I could do this by myself. Tim insisted on coming, but I waved him off. I honestly thought I was strong enough to handle this. Help!) Judy turned on the machine and started running her magic wand over my stomach. Every few seconds the machine would click and capture an image of my insides. I kept looking at Judy, hoping to see a smile or a wink - anything to give me some sort of reassurance that everything was okay. I got nothing.
Desperate to forget about my surroundings, I let my mind drift off a bit. However, when left unaccompanied, my mind likes to swim in the deep end and I often find myself in over my head. Before I knew it, I was thinking about a friend’s recent sonogram and the happiness she must have felt while having virtually the same exam. Same uninspired artwork. Same sticky goo. Same magic wand. Yet I imagine our experiences were light years apart.
I pray it’s a girl.
I pray it’s not cervical cancer.
Please tell me it’s a boy.
Please tell me it‘s not in my ovaries.
Is the baby growing?
Is the cancer spreading?
Feeling a meltdown approaching, I asked Judy if we could take a break. To her credit, she asked if I was okay, but her tone betrayed her words. She kept an eye on her watch and was secretly hoping that I would stop shaking long enough for her to finish the exam. (Strong mind. Strong body. Strong mind. Strong body.) A few deep breaths later, I was able to start again and made it all the way through.
After getting dressed and cleaning up a bit, I shuffled off to my next test. The construction workers smiled at me again and this time I smiled back, but it wasn’t directed at them. It was to karma who had just agreed to give Judy a flat tire on her way to happy hour.
I must’ve met her twin “Trudy” –
only it was a CT scan and she gave the directions as if I was a robot.
She also sounded annoyed.
Get the heck out of Dodge if you can’t show an ounce of empathy in healthcare. But, on the flip side I’ve met some ‘really good eggs.’ I’ve had enough tests (as I’m sure everyone has) that you meet the good, the bad, and the _______.
*nods* …and their brother Rudy!
My encounter was my first 4:30pm appointment. Seems that while scheduling is authorized to run until 4:30, the technicians do their paperwork from 4:30 on and don’t appreciate late appointments.
That day I watched three of them literally _run_ out of the clinic. In their defense, it was a Wednesday, the classic day for a lot of organizational meetings in town; and it was the week before school started…
On a hunch, I kept arriving right at 4:30. By day three, they had found an 8:00 appointment (my first choice when we started all of this) for me to move into the following week.
Of course, then the machines started breaking down, two in the same week *sighs*
Nice to be able to find the humor; thanks for that!
Be well and stay hydrated!!
Hi Kate,
My heart goes out to you! My Mom has PC with Mets to her liver. I am pregnant with my first child. This Blog really hit home with me, last week she was at Stanford for her chemo and testing and I was at my hospital having my ultrasound at the same time. I was thinking about her the whole time.
i really enjoy your website and podcast. It is helping me to read your story.
-Katie
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