For the same reasons I suppose my book writing venture has come to a grinding halt. I'm about a third of the way through it but I haven't even thought about it, much less written anything, in over a month. Damn hormones.
Hot flashes have definitely come to my house. I'm learning to dress in layers to accommodate them. Well, I've always sort of dressed in layers anyway - except that I was always adding another on top. Now I'm playing the on again off again game. The flashes normally only last a minute or so, so if this is as bad as it gets I'll be laughing. But somehow I think I ain't seen nothin' yet.
I had my one year appointment at the cancer unit last week. I saw Dr Lamb, a female oncologist, this time. I discussed the "should I be taking Tamoxifen and/or HRT" issues with her. As suspected she said no HRT and one more year of Tamoxifen.
In our discussion of how to deal with hot flashes I asked what my options were.
"Fans. And wet cloths," was her reply. "And as a last resort, if they are totally unbearable we can put you on an anti-depressant. For some reason they seem to help with hot flashes. But this would be totally as last resort resolution."
As I said, so far they aren't too bad but I'd imagine I'll eventually visit a naturopath.
As suspected the oncologist sent me for a diagnostic mammogram - which I participated in today. Once they take the girl's photos from all sorts of angles, they make you sit there and wait while the technician views them to ensure everything shows clearly before they let you finish dressing and leave.
While I was sitting there in the examining room, which is sort of open to the central viewing room - kinda like a dentist's office, I could hear my nurse (mammographer? I dunno what they are called) having a discussion with someone else whom I assumed to be a technician.
Well, it was more like a one-sided conversation with the other voice speaking to my nurse:
"There seems to be something going on between 3 and 4 o'clock. And there is definitely a cyst at 6 o'clock."
My heart stops momentarily. I have no idea whether my pictures are even ready yet, so I remind myself that they take images all day long and it is quite likely someone else's portraits they are looking at. For one thing I can't imagine they would have that conversation within earshot of me when they are not allowed to confirm or deny anything until I see my family doctor for results.
"Look here. Compare them to these two images from May."
"Damn," I think. "I was here in May. Those have to be mine." But then I continue my conversation with myself, convincing myself that anyone who had issues in May would routinely be back 6 months later in November.
If indeed they were talking about me, they were talking about my left breast which is the one that had the lump last year because they didn't do a vice grip portrait of the right side in May.
A few minutes later I breathed a sigh of relief when my nurse returned to tell me I was free to dress and go.
Anyway, this is all completely speculations of an overactive mind until I hear otherwise from my family doctor at 9am Thursday morning.
And whatever the outcome, it better not interfere with next Tuesday's planned trip to Edmonton where I shall sleep in The Algonquin, our favourite no-frills cheap motel on the corner of Mayfield and 170th. And I shall feast at the Olive Garden and Red Lobster. And I shall overspend at West Edmonton Mall and Ikea. And I shall have a nice visit with my April and her hubby Greg. And I shall return home exhausted.
1 comment:
if youre looking for a 99% failure rate, just have a two sided conversation inside one head.
:<{()~~~~~~~~
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