And so it goes. I’ve been a big shot. I’ve been busy, claiming myself to be too busy to blog. And rightfully so. I’m a designer in the big city of Orlando now and I crap dollar bills. A big shot! What do I need with a blog? And Steven’s been a big shot, too. He’s been unbelievably healthy. He’s been managing real estate projects. He’s been moving mountains (or more precisely Sea Grape Trees) in our yard. Home improvement projects that we’ve been putting off for 17 years are either done or in the works. He’s passed the last few years (5 to be exact) without any chemo treatments because his doctor has deemed him too healthy for chemo. He’s Superman. Together we are big shots…who just hit the wall.
A month ago I left for the grocery store and when I returned he had painted the family room. He was a little tired, but really proud of his stamina. And he’s overseen the remodel of our guest bath. Walls had to be removed to find the leak that started our project. And when we were down to the studs and the water was re-routed, Steven oversaw and was hands-on during the remodelng. I was able to finally design something from scratch in my OWN house and he made sure it came out just the way I wanted it. Most of it its done…almost. The baseboards need to get installed in the guest bath. That’s all that’s left. Easy peasy, right? Steven assured me that was a small enough job to do himself…but he hasn’t. I’ve been getting impatient and suspicious all at the same. Suddenly the man who cut a 1970s pink steel bath tub in half and dragged the pieces out of the house himself, couldn’t pick up a 6″ piece of moulding. Then, he started taking those 4 hour naps. And we tried to pretend he was just recovering from all the work he was doing while driving himself to finish, because damn it we were not going to let the other option rear it’s ugly head.
A week ago Steven started to look pregnant. Not a good look for a 60 year old man, bee-tee-dubs. I mean grand children would be cool, but not that way. He can’t deal with a hemorrhoid. How would he pass a watermelon through his pee hole? And the giant belly not only looked ghetto, it made it hard for him to catch his breath. So he went to our family doctor.
Side bar please – For some reason, when it comes to those kinds of visits, he has so much information for the doc that he focuses on all the wrong things. He actually told the doctor he could feel the bile in his abdomen. Seriously? He can’t feel when there’s so much gas in there that he’s gonna rip one that breaks the sound barrier…but he can feel bile?
Naturally, he got sent home after a myriad of blood draws, an EKG, some lung “blow in this tube” test and then got assigned a chest x-ray for homework. I think the “bile” thing made him seem a little “Felix Unger-y” But the tests – He aced them all, my little overachiever. But last weekend he could barely get out of bed. He looked gray in the face and could hardlly breath. I told him to call our doctor, and he did with little response.
Side bar again. I’d like to redirect your attention to the post of June 1, 2011 our different styles of talking with doctors. (You should click on the link and read it later. It’s true and really funny) Back to the present – I usually get better results. So I made Steven call again and told him what to say. I went with him to the appointment and suddenly our family doc was on the phone with his cancer doc and his CAT scan was rescheduled from October to yesterday. And then Dr. Sprawls called him personally and set him up with an appointment for today…because we are big shots. Unfortunately in this situation a big shot is really a sick person, so whoo hoo for us!
And so it goes. The slow growing follicular lymphoma which has been the “good” cancer we’ve been coddling for the last 10 years has decided to come to the party in costume as large B cell lymphoma. For those of you in “the know,” that’s the cancer that really sucks and needs to be put in it’s place with the puking, hair falling out drugs. Not for nuthin’ but this time I’m getting pictures of bald Steven. He’s really quite handsome in a Marine Officer kind of way. But for now, we’re taking it one day at a time. For instance today…how many doctors do you know well enough that the’ll do this (see pix) rather than make the patient move into an uncomfortable position. LOL he’s the best. Dr. Sprawls had a smile on his face when we got there, and a smile on his face when he give us the
orders for the hospital. He’s setting Steven up with a biopsy to grab a few lymph nodes to examine. A bone biopsy to check that whole under the hood deal, an echo cardiogram to figure out why he’s breathing like a dog in heat and anything else that might help us get to the bottom of this mess. The only down side is that he’s ordered a port to be put into Steven’s chest. A surgeon does it and it’s like plumbing for easy drug input. That’s not a little thing. That means business. But he was still smiling when we left. Dr. Sprawls took on Steven as a patient 10 years ago because he said Steven would make him look good. Every patient who survives is considered a “WIN” in the doctor’s column. He’s looking for another “WIN” and so are we.
We’re going to make it. That base board in the guest bath isn’t going to jump into place itself.