Cushy face pillows
MRI's done. I'm being treated at Seattle Cancer Care Alliance, which, compared with the one data point I have from Group Health, is almost like going to a spa.
This data point is a woman I met about 22 hours after I got my diagnosis. She was a complete stranger with whom I was about to spend 3 hopefully-not-interminable hours in the car on the way to the Police concert last Saturday. Because the world is tiny (TINY) she has the same kind of cancer I do, same demographic as me, and she was recovering from surgery. So the concert was like cancer camp. She's one very, very cool chick.
So I more or less knew what to expect from the MRI: we lie face down with our bosoms in a trough, hands above our head for 20 minutes (or it gets the hose again). At Group Health you are on your own to figure out what to do with your face. But SCCA has a lovely massage-table-type face cushion for us elites. Plus earplugs, plus headphones with soothing-but-not-Enya music. It put me in a mood to think of the IV-delivered goo as gladiolus instead of gadolinium. (Yep, it's an element, #64, had to look it up.)
If there are visible lymph nodes in this MRI, make plans to come to my funeral, because they didn't shoot anywhere near my armpits. I'm really wanting clean lymph nodes. I'm really wanting unharmed axillary nerves after they pull a node out, so that I can still maybe be a surgeon. I'm really wanting a piece of paper from Dr. Silvagni that officially grants me a deferral at Nova.
Oh, forgot to mention: the whole Chemo Weight Loss Plan is a myth, according to my data point referenced above. On average, chemo doesn't really make you all that sick anymore, and they don't particularly want you dropping weight during treatment. Back to the Tapeworm Weight Loss Plan.
The Police were outstanding. A Viagra commercial, sure, but they made me very happy.
This data point is a woman I met about 22 hours after I got my diagnosis. She was a complete stranger with whom I was about to spend 3 hopefully-not-interminable hours in the car on the way to the Police concert last Saturday. Because the world is tiny (TINY) she has the same kind of cancer I do, same demographic as me, and she was recovering from surgery. So the concert was like cancer camp. She's one very, very cool chick.
So I more or less knew what to expect from the MRI: we lie face down with our bosoms in a trough, hands above our head for 20 minutes (or it gets the hose again). At Group Health you are on your own to figure out what to do with your face. But SCCA has a lovely massage-table-type face cushion for us elites. Plus earplugs, plus headphones with soothing-but-not-Enya music. It put me in a mood to think of the IV-delivered goo as gladiolus instead of gadolinium. (Yep, it's an element, #64, had to look it up.)
If there are visible lymph nodes in this MRI, make plans to come to my funeral, because they didn't shoot anywhere near my armpits. I'm really wanting clean lymph nodes. I'm really wanting unharmed axillary nerves after they pull a node out, so that I can still maybe be a surgeon. I'm really wanting a piece of paper from Dr. Silvagni that officially grants me a deferral at Nova.
Oh, forgot to mention: the whole Chemo Weight Loss Plan is a myth, according to my data point referenced above. On average, chemo doesn't really make you all that sick anymore, and they don't particularly want you dropping weight during treatment. Back to the Tapeworm Weight Loss Plan.
The Police were outstanding. A Viagra commercial, sure, but they made me very happy.
posted by Cy at 4:06 PM
1 Comments:
I can't believe the chemo weight loss plan is a myth...what good is having cancer if you don't get skinny over it?? Hope you're getting spoiled rotten. And we'll be up in Washington around 9/5 so hopefully you'll be around so that we can hook up.
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