Tuesday, 1 April 2008
Give A Dog A Bone
Went to see my oncologist to find out the results from my Bone Scan and C.T. Scan.
For someone like me, with Stage 4 Inflammatory Breast Cancer, where a cure is not possible, the words “no change” and “stable” are all the bones this dog needs tossed in her direction.
I started the day off at 11 a.m. with pamidronate. Pamidronate reduces breakdown of the bones and is used to reduce high levels of calcium in the blood associated with malignancy (cancer) and to reduce the breakdown of bone due to metastases of breast cancer. It is put in my PICC line and I have it given to me over one hour.
This was followed up with my doctor’s appointment which always involves three key players and goes like this.
The three key players in this appointment are me, my nurse, and my oncologist.
I always play the role of a groveling dog begging for a bone.
My nurse, Lori, plays the role of my nurse Lori. Lori is considered by all of us who have her to be amazing. Before I met Lori, everyone would say ‘Have you met Lori yet?’ I hadn’t for the first few months, but now that I have, I am her biggest fan. Who doesn’t want an efficient and compassionate nurse as one of their key players? Besides being a wonderful human being, what I will love Lori for is what she did for my dear friend Darlene a few months before she died.
My oncologist plays the role of my oncologist. My oncologist could play the role of an oncologist on any Hollywood movie. Not only is she brilliant (which is the most important part), she is also absolutely beautiful looking. She is the one that has the horrendous job of kicking the dog (me) when its down or tossing the dog (me) a bone.
Lori weighs me (220 lbs on a 5 ft frame --- I was supposed to have a heart attack not cancer) and then takes me into an examining room and asks me how I have been feeling and if I have any concerns. Woof, woof, woof. I show her the spots on my skin, she gives me a gown to put on, and she tells me the doctor will be right in. I also get a hug because it was just my birthday.
My doctor comes in and asks how I have been. Woof. Woof. She examines me and tells me to keep an eye on my skin, it is definitely different than the skin cancer on the other side but it still needs to be watched.
I adjust my tail and place my paws in my lap.
My doctor opens my chart and rifles through the papers.
I look at her with big dog-like eyes and make whimpering sounds. In my head I am wondering if I will get kicked to the side or if she will give a dog a bone.
“The bone scan and C.T. scan show no change. The cancer is stable.”
The doctor and I leave the room together, and with my bone between my teeth and my tail wagging I walk out the door upright on two legs.