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.
“The Call”
Same day service is great when it comes to things like dry cleaning or shoe repair. It’s not so great when it comes to test results. I learned early on that no news is definitely good news. The more time that passes in between taking a test and receiving the results, the better. While being diagnosed, I would sometimes get “the call” within a matter of hours.
Of course, there are other aspects to my theory. In my experience, typically
• if a nurse calls on behalf of the doctor, then it’s good news.
• if the doctor makes the call in person, it’s bad news.
• if the doctor calls and won’t go into details over the phone, then it’s very bad news.
• if the doctor calls your emergency contact person before calling you, then it’s very, very bad news.
• and finally, if the doctor calls on Christmas Eve while at Dulles airport, waiting to board his flight to the Caribbean, then you know you’re in serious trouble.
I had another MRI this afternoon and I know that if my phone rings tomorrow morning or early afternoon, there’s a good chance that I have something very scary growing on my spine. According to my calculations, if my doctor doesn’t call by Wednesday afternoon, then I might be okay.
So I’m sitting here, staring at my phone, hoping it doesn’t ring. In fact, I hope it doesn’t ring until late Friday afternoon. When I answer it, I hope it’s the nurse calling and she’s at happy hour, drinking a margarita.
Prayers and good thoughts coming your way. I hope you don’t hear from the doctor for awhile!
Kate:
I am so very sorry about the circumstances surrounding your post, but you have hit the nail on the head as always. It’s uncanny.
My most memorable phone call: “Please come see me in my office to review your biopsy results.” You can guess how that went.
I have bone mets scattered up and down my spine, as well as throughout my skeleton. I’ve lived with them for quite a while (at least 2 years; probably much longer), and I’m always a little taken aback when people respond with horror to the news that they are there. I guess there is something about the spine — and about what widespread bone metastases must represent in terms of my prognosis — that scares people, which is understandable. But I try to think of the tumors as nothing more than barnacles.
I don’t mean to make light of the situation. I just wanted to let you know that while the last thing that any of us who visit this site want is to see you suffer, there is something about reading blogs like yours that brings comfort to other cancer patients. Thank you. As always, your words resonate like no others.
Kristy
I’ll be thinking about you, and hoping the call doesn’t come soon.
I will never forget the call that I received giving me bad news. My life changed at that moment. My prayers are with you, and everyone that’s in your life. Hope it helps to know that you have lots of people online caring about you and wishing you the best. Donna
Hi Kate:
You and your family are in my thoughts and prayers. I pray you get that Friday afternoon call with the sound of clinking glasses in the background.
I look forward to seeing you and the other members of “Kate’s Ugly Shoes” team in Bel Air, MD on October 12th.
Ken
Hi Kate - I like the new blog design! I am hoping that you will receive the classification of call that you are hoping for!
Kate, this is the third time I’ve read this posting. Of course you are in my prayers (always). And as always, I am humbled at the grace & strength with which you talk about your reality. You are such a beautiful presence.
Kate, you rock. It’s Thursday morning and there’s no update on your Twitter site or post, so I’m hoping you haven’t heard anything. My late husband was a radiologist, and he did make calls immediately on the cases with bad news. But he usually read the stuff before the patient left the office, too. He felt he owed them at least that.
Yup, we do respond differently now. I remember, barely, when I would go for my annual check and get home and the answer machine would be blinking - I would hesitate for a bit then push the button to play back the messages of the day. Just a bit on edge waiting for the one message from my doctor’s office. Usually it was the nurse “your blood work was fine, cholesterol is a bit high so stay off the ice cream and we will see you next year”. Relief and back to all things normal. Not another thought about that call (later on watching the Tonight show and sucking down huge bowl of Cherry Garcia Ice cream).
I can hear it in his voice. If it’s good or not so so bad he will start out with “hi Kiki its doctor Smith”. But when it’s not such good news or bad news he must have to muster up the nerve to call me. He starts this conversation with a deeper voice “KIKI ITS DOCTOR SMITH” I can hear the crackle in his voice that he is so desperately trying to hide from me. I hate those kind of calls
It is different now though. I hear you Kate.
Love Kiki
kikiverobeach@gmail.com
Hey, just stumbled across your blog/twitter account thanks to @pistachio. You go girl!! From one cancer survivor to another — keep kicking some ass!! @stales
A total blog makeover!! Great job, and thinking of you!
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