Garbage in, Garbage out

I just called the reconstruction surgeon's office to find out about the appointment for an MRI. I was told that it would take a week to get approval from my insurance company for the test. I knew that wasn't true, because I have stood at the desk of other doctors while the scheduler called and made similar appointments. I called the person on her obvious lie, in a nice and polite way and she told me it was because they are a cosmetic surgery office. Not likely, but I told her that I'd call my primary care doctor to see if I could get the appointment scheduled sooner. After I hung up I called my insurance company to see what the policy is. They told me that the referral to the surgeon was the only approval for the test that was necessary. They didn't need to do any further approvals. Garbage stinks, even over phone lines. I then called my primary care doctor to ask if they could schedule the MRI for me. It even stinks that I have to do this. I'm wondering about the integrity of everyone that I've been dealing with.

Not what I wanted to hear part 2

I went to my primary care doctor on Monday. My potassium was low again. She wants me to take a 24 hour urine test. She said that I should do it on Sunday and turn it in on Monday. OK, but I have tickets to the Braves game on Sunday. This isn't going to be convienient...but wait, isn't Monday Labor Day? Oh yeah! Very cool...I don't have to carry a bottle of pee to the stadium. I'd like to know how I was going to get that past the security guards.

Not what I wanted to hear

I found a lump. I already blogged about it. I called my oncologist who said to go to my breast surgeon. I didn't think that she was the most appropriate doctor to handle it, but I agreed. His office called and made the appointment so that I'd get right in, but her office cancelled the appointment and put it off for 3 weeks. During that time I deluded myself that she was going to tell me the lump was my breast bone and not to worry about it. She didn't. I already blogged about that too. She said that I should go see my reconstructive surgeon because it may just be scar tissue or fibrotic muscel from the TRAM, but then she said that I shouldn't wait. If I couldn't get in within a couple of weeks to give her a call and she'd make sure of it. Somehow that didn't sound like scar tissue to me. I would have gotten in earlier, but I wanted to go away for my birthday to see my grandson. While I was gone I convinced myself that I was going to hear the surgeon say, "Oh, well TRAM's do that. Scar tissue and all." He couldn't remember which side he harvested the abdominal muscel from. I told him that it was the left. Turns out that I was right (correct). He doesn't think that it's scar tissue. He thinks that my primary care doctor should take care of it, but he's ordered an MRI just to make sure that it isn't a problem with the TRAM. I don't like MRI's, but I want to know what this is. Karen, the nurse, came in while I was getting dressed. Kristin will set up the MRI appointment and give me a call. I kind of froze. I don't like Kristin. She's the PA, and she left the surgical tape on too long, so I have an ugly scar. She was nasty about having to be at the hospital when Hurricane Charlie hit Atlanta because I'd had a complication to my surgery. If she orders a perscription for me she doesn't check my LQTS list and then lies about it. She told me that Oxycodone wasn't hydrocodone. She waited three months to schedule my tattoo after the doctor said that it was safe to have it...I don't like her. I don't want to wait three months to get this MRI. I was not happy when I left the office. There are about a million places in Atlanta to get an MRI. Scheduling one tomorrow isn't really a problem. If my oncologist schedules one, I wait by the phone for the three minutes it takes the scheduler to set it up. Kristin never called this afternoon. Tomorrow I will have to call Kristin and remind her to make the appointment. I am so not happy. I didn't want to hear that the lumps weren't my breast bone, or that they weren't scar tissue. Why do I have to put up with Kristin? If she gives me a problem with it, then I'll call my oncologist's office and see if they can set it up, or even my primary care office. I really wanted one of them to tell me that this was all just normal tissue.

50

Today is it. Three years ago I didn't think that I'd get to this point, but here I am. I'm 50 years old. Yesterday I was eating lunch in a restaurant and people watching. It dawned on me that the little old people that were there ...well they really weren't my age...but they weren't any older than my brothers and sisters.

Frightening Disappointment

I finally got in to see the surgeon who has been putting me off since February, and not because of the follow-up mammogram and ultrasound that she'd told me she wanted done in three months. My oncologist's office called and scheduled an appointment with her for me for a problem that I'd called them about. They wanted me to go in immediately and have the problem evaluated. But the surgeon's office even managed to cancel that appointment and it took 3 weeks to get in.

The problem that I called the Oncologist for and was passed on to the Surgeon is that I found a new lump in an ominous place. It is in my right abdomen slightly below my rib cage about where I would imagine my liver to be. The lump is hard and it does not move. It reminded me of the breast lump that I found three years ago. I was not happy that my oncologist referred this problem to my surgeon. Not only is her office staff the worst, she only wants to do breasts and this is definately out of the scope for that practice. Still I went in to the appointment knowing that they would not address the problem.

In my heart of heart I was hoping that I'd be laughed at and told that the hard lump I was feeling was my breast bone, and not to bother them with such things. That did not happen, but I was right in my assumption that they aren't going to deal with it. She called my reconstructive Surgeon and requested an appointment for me. The wanted the appointment at the end of next week, but I said no because I will be out of town. I will go in on the 29th. If this is what I fear, then the reconstructive surgeon isn't going to want to deal with this either, it is beyond the scope of his practice.

Now, I still have a lump. It is in an ominous position and my fantasy that it may be something that is totally atonomically normal has been swept away.

!@#$%!

I was 46 years old before I knew any oncologists. I was much happier then.

Heatwave

It's hot. Even for the south, it is hot. Many years ago I left Oklahoma thinking that anyplace where it commonly got over 100 degrees was not fit for human habitation. It has been over 100 degrees every day for a week. I tell myself to grow up, that it is August in the South, but it is still too hot.

On Tuesday I guess I will finally see the surgeon who keeps cancelling my appointments. I waited all week for her office to call and cancel this one, but they didn't. I know that there is still Monday, and they have cancelled the day before in the past, but I do think that I may just get in this time. It will be hot on Tuesday too. I'm sure that it will make no difference to the appointment. I'll just go in there a bit more sweaty. Knowing that I need this appointment isn't making it any easier to face. I'm usually nervous about it when it is just regular, but with this one I have to confront the doctor regarding their behavior, and I don't like confrontation.

First Kiss

"I have a question. Don't read too much into it." Ok, that coming from my 15 year old is a reason enough to panic in itself.

"How old were you when you got your first kiss?" She would have to ask that question. "I think I was 50, honey."

"No, really"
"Yeah, really"
"You aren't 50 yet, Mom." Should I tell her that I smoked pot with her pediatrician behind the youth group bus on the way to camp when we were 16? No, it's probably not useful information to her.
I sigh heavily, "I was 12."
"12!?"
"Yeah, 12. I was stupid and under a lot of peer pressure to act older than I was. The guy was a jerk, and probably doesn't even remember my name. I kissed a whole lot of jerks." I bite my tongue to keep from saying "your father was one of them."
"You were 12! OK, then I'm not so bad then."
"Did Nick kiss you today?" She giggles and sits up. I give her my best parental warning look. "Are you going to tell me about it?"
"We were coming off the Batman ride."
"And holding hands." I interrupt.
"Yeah, and I thought that he was leaning over just to tell me something." she giggles again. She's obviously happy about this. "Then suddenly he was kissing me."
"Did you kiss him back?"
"Well, I had too. It was the only way to recover."
She had better not ever ask me when I lost my virgininity!