Dancing With Cancer Memoirs...And The Dance Continues...

Thing is, I have no idea what I'm dancing with. My hematologist starts gently nagging me to get a colonoscopy, an idea I loath. Getting a garden hose shoved up my ass is NOT on my list of things I can't wait to do. So naturally I blow him off and go about my business, working like a fiend, ignoring what my body is crying to tell me. So dear old body decided to give me another clue.

Exactly one month after the frantic phone call from my doctor, another sudden crisis. On Friday, February 8th, 2008, I went to bed early (around 8 pm) as I usually do and soon I began to feel a slight burning sensation on my breast bone. It wasn't bad so I ignored it. As the hours pass, it slowly grew worse. The pain traveled down my left side traveled over to my right side and settled there.

Sometime after midnight I start to vomit dark green goo. Then I start to dry heave. Violently. I'm screaming in agony, begging and pleading the Universe to make this stop, do anything to just make this horrendous pain disappear before I dry heave up all my innards, make me disappear. I cannot even climb to my feet due to the insidious pain in my right side.

Sometime after 2am I finally crawl to my daughter's closed bedroom door and claw it open. She immediately wakes up and shouts 'mom, what's wrong??' I am unable to answer, I can only lie there with my face contorted in pain. She takes one look at me and dashed to the phone and calls 911 for an ambulance. I crawl to the living room, moaning, wondering what the hell is going on with me. Thankfully I had stopped heaving my guts out and my ribs no longer feel broken. Of course that made me think that I was now fine, and I'll just send the paramedics home, thanks anyways.

The First Response guy soon arrives and he is very kind. Since I'm no longer tossing my cookies, I'm thinking I'm getting better and I don't really need to go anywhere but back to bed; I had a long day at work coming up. But then the ambulance arrives and upon hearing my brilliant idea, that guy quickly and firmly changes my mind; I could tell he would not take no for an answer, dammit. I am soon loaded onto a stretcher. On my way out the door, I reach up and start grabbing stuff; my purse, house keys, work phone (a walkie talkie) and a few other things. The man in charge is not amused; he didn't like pausing for stubborn patients who are not taking the situation very seriously. He comments dryly that I need to keep my hands inside the stretcher. I'm thinking, 'yeah, in a minute, I need one more thing.' Finally they manage to get me in the ambulance. More tall talking to let me allow him to stick me with an IV. I had enough of them suckers last month, and now here's another one. Great.

Unfortunately ER Nurse Bitch was working that night along with Dr. Ho Hum. More blood taken. Dr. Ho Hum orders a CT scan and informs me, obviously bored stiff, if it comes back clear he's sending me home with some pain pills. I'm thinking he doesn't give a rat's ass one way or the other; he shows no concern or compassion for my agony, and neither does Nurse Bitch. She acted a bit sadistic and like she didn't believe I was in as much pain as I was. I contemplate violence but settled on getting bitchy right back at her. We got snotty with each other. It made me feel better to get snotty right back at her.

So I'm alone with Nurse Bitch and am told to take my shoes and pants off. I'm still writhing in pain and crying trying to reach my shoes to untie and she just stands there watching me. Seriously, I'm convinced she believed I was faking it all; like I can't think of a cheaper way to get shot up with narcotics besides a fake trip to the ER.

Finally she bothered herself long enough to untie one of my shoes. The rest, I was on my own. We get snotty with each other again and she said she needed to briefly stick a catheter up me for a urine sample. I'm thinking if she hurts me I'm gonna bitch slap her into the next examining room. I get pretty cranky when I feel like my insides are exploding and no one seems to care or believe me.

Getting the scan done was pure hell. I had to lie flat on my back which was excruciating enough, but then I had to periodically hold my breath. Luckily I didn't have to wait long for the results.

Not only had my hemoglobin dropped from 10.2 from last months blood transfusion to 9.3, my appendix was also inflamed and about to explode. I needed surgery. Damn! At least Nurse Bitch was a bit nicer to me. I guess patients need to prove themselves to be genuinely sick and in pain before she acts like a human who cares. A bit. Dr. Ho Hum, on the other hand, was still Dr. Ho Hum.

The surgery was done with a laparoscope. Now I'm really freaking out. I was almost hyperventilating from fear. Someone slipped some ativan in my IV but he might as well have given me sugar water; did nothing for me. I have a terror of waking up during surgery; I know how to read, I've read about stuff like that! No amount of explaining made me feel better and getting through how the procedure was going to be done took an extra long time due to my constant interrupting with questions, and 'you're gonna WHAT to me?? I don't think so!' But it did get done, without a hitch I might add, and I was able to go home the next day, Saturday February 9th. I was off work for two weeks this time.

Surely, I naively think, nothing more can happen...right?

I conveniently forgot about my dropping hemoglobin levels...