Excuse me, have we met?

I am at KFC getting lunch after church. When I walked up to the counter there was a young father there with two very cute little boys discussing what they wanted to eat. The father looked me in the eyes and said "miss emmy, would you like to go ahead of me us?" And then went right back to talking with his boys. It shocked me for a minute. I live in surburban Atlanta. You do well to know your neighbors. There is no way to know everyone in town. I didn't recognize him at all, but it was obvious that he knows me. I was going to ask how we know each other when they sat down, but they got their food to go. Now this has me wondering. The fact that he calls me "miss emmy" tells me that I probably knew him as a child. Maybe I was his Sunday school teacher or something. Or maybe he is the child of one of the women who were part of the Friday morning womens group that I used to go to when I didn't work on Fridays. I don't know. It's just a bit odd. Nice to know that he turned out so well anyway. Kind of nice to know that I'm remembered by people.

Biopsy Results

I had an appointment on Friday to get the biopsy results and the stitches taken out. I got to the office on time and back into the room within five minutes. The nurses assistant was there to remove the stitches, and she had them out in less than a minute. Everything was going fine until then. She handed me the checkout sheet and said "You're done." No, nobody had said anything to me about the results of the biopsy. I said this to her and she flipped around in my chart for a minute. She didn't find the results and told me that they weren't there. "Well, where are they?" She told me that they could take seven to ten days to get there, they might not be there yet. I told her that two weeks is fourteen days, the report should be there. If it wasn't, someone needs to call and find out where it is. She said oh and left the room to see if she could find it. She came back twenty minutes later with Dr. Fs who told me that the biopsy indicated that the problem was androgenic alopecia, or pattern baldness. He advised that I should take 5000 mcgs of biotin and use Rogaine for Women twice a day. I had already Googled androgenic alopecia and knew that one treatment is high dose spironolactone. I think that he was pissed that I asked him about it. He said that yes, it could be theraputic and I would need to take at least 100 mgs, but the ideal dose would be 200 mgs. That is eight times the dose that I'm taking now. He didn't write me a prescription for the drug or arrange for any further follow up visits. Good because with the amount of frustration that I was feeling at that point I wouldn't be willing to attend a follow up anyway. I left, but realized after I got to my car that I had not seen or asked for a copy of the biopsy report. Crap! I decided that I would call and ask for them to fax me a copy of the report. When I got back to the office I called Dr. R to ask if he would be willing to write a prescription for the spironolactone. I was told that the person whom I was speaking with would run it by Dr. R and get back with me. I called Dr. Fs's office and asked if they would fax a copy of the report to me. I was told that Jan would be the one who would take care of that and she wasn't in. I was directed to her voicemail to leave a message. Double crap!

Around 4:00 I realized that no one from Dr. R's office was going to get back to me. But I got back to my desk around 4:30 to find a voicemail from Charmaine at Dr. Fs's office. She told me that I had androgenic alopecia and spelled it for me in case I wanted to Google it. Then she asked me to follow up with Dr. Fs in two to three weeks. Really Now? I didn't want to be told the results again, I wanted a copy of the report, and it seemed like they were as unwilling to have me see it as they were to write the prescription for spironolactone. I called back and spoke with Charmaine. I told her that I already knew the results, but wanted a copy of the report. She said that she only calls people on the phone to let them know their test results. She was unaware of what had happened in the office that morning. I asked her about the follow up because no one had mentioned a follow up when I was in the office and the check out person hadn't scheduled a visit. I probably would have refused anyway. This is disturbing on many levels. The first and most profound is that they are calling people to tell them they have cancer. I can't imagine getting that news on the phone. And it furthered my ire that they aren't organized enough to make the call before I came in for the follow up visit. Also, if they were only going to tell me that I had alopecia they really weren't going to suggest any method to attempt to keep my hair. I am really not happy with this exchange at all. If Dr. Fs was my dermatologist, I would be looking for a different practice all together.

As unhappy as I am with the appointment and follow up, I am very relieved with the diagnosis. Men's hair loss is almost always pattern baldness. Women's is a bit more ominous. It can point to underlying illness that can range from a stressful event to life threatening illenss. When I was Googling I was reading about lupus, sclerodermis and even metastatic breast cancer. I have been more than a bit freaked out by the possibilities and that makes me willing to accept just simple pattern baldness. That doesn't mean that I want to be bald, but at least there won't  be doing chemo for it.

I wish someone could explain to me why every appointment that I go to has to be a crazy mess. Why can't it follow the normal pattern of arrive, sign in, wait, see the nurse, see the doctor you came to see and get the diagnosis, check out and pay, then leave? I have a skin check appointment with Dr. P next week. I plan to let him know how displeased I am with the way things happened.

Sales Lead Fail

Dear MMCPHO:
Thank you for directing your letter to FedEx to our office at UPS Corporate Headquarters. We are appreciative of each and every sales lead that you can send us.

Sincerely,
emmy

Waiting

I get the stitches taken out of my head and the results of my biopsy tomorrow. So of course I'm so anxious about it I can hardly sit still. I think this is one of the hardest parts of having chronic diseases. Waiting on anything is never pleasant, but waiting on medical news is awful.

Who I am

I took this picture of myself a few weeks ago after getting an new haircut. The picture startled me because for the first time I looked at myself and thought "wow, I really look like a Calvert". My grandmothers didn't like each other. In my entire life I can't remember one time I saw them say one word to each other, and they were next door neighbors. My grandmother Calvert didn't like my mother either, and I'm not sure if the offence started between my mother and my grandmother or between my grandmothers. Still my mother was best friends with my father's sister and she married my father, so it mustn't have always been that way. Whatever the reason, it affected the way my grandmother treated me and my sisters. She would say things to me like "Yes, but you're a Foreman". I honestly never felt like a part of the Calvert family. We would visit occasionally, but not even every time we went to the small town they lived in. As a teenager, I once spent a whole summer there and didn't even contact any of the Calvert cousins. It's a small town, there is no way I could be there and them not know that I was there. But they didn't contact me either. In their eyes I was just another one of those Foremans. It didn't really matter to me. Both sides of my family are large and with as many brothers and sisters that I had, I never lacked for family. Actually, I didn't think much about it until recently, and now it's just a curiosity. I was thinking about it this morning as I was driving to work (my commute usually takes more than an hour each way), and I realized the backwardness of my grandmother Calvert making me feel my whole life like I wasn't a Calvert. If anyone wasn't a Calvert, it was her. I was born into that family, she married into it. I have their genetics, she didn't. The idea caused me to laugh out loud, but then it made me ponder the concept of it. She presented an irrational idea and got away with it because of her authority in the family. I actually believed it until this morning. So all day long I have been watching people and realizing this situation happens a lot. The person in authority makes a statement and everyone acts on it even though it's irrational. For instance, in the cafeteria at breakfast one of the cooks placed one of the breakfast sandwiches on the counter instead of the plate. Then one of the people in line asked to have another sandwich because that one had been on the counter. After than nobody would take that sandwich. It was ridiculous. That counter is clean. There is nothing about that sandwich that was going to infect anyone. At the same time all of the cooks are wearing gloves, but they aren't constantly changing them. The cook will pick up a piece of sausage, put it on the grill and then turn around and arrange another plate of food and serve it. Everyone thinks that the food is cleaner because they are wearing gloves. But actually, not really. They are picking up germs on the gloves as they go, and those germs aren't killing anyone that I know of. Still, if they picked up a piece of food without the gloves they'd probably get fired. It's silly. Can you tell that I have very little to do today?

Bad week foodwise

 It has been a bad week for food with me, and tomorrow night when I go see Dr. Beasley I'm going to be in trouble. The problem is this. These pictures depict my week with food. They will tell her the amount of calories that I've eaten each day, and how many grams of protein, fat and carbs. Right now she doesn't want me to go under 1200 calories in a day and she wants at least 70 grams of protein. I have been way under the amount of calories all week, though I have easily made the amount of protein. The reason has been the heat all week. The heat and humidity that we've been experiencing all week has gotten to me. It makes me nauseous, and gives me the runs. That makes the idea of eating very unappealing. All I really want is liquid with ice in it. I can tell you that 590 calories and 44 grams of protein aren't going to impress her. So I am sitting in McDonalds choking down a Grilled Ranch BLT to add to the calories and protein amounts. I never thought that I'd be force feeding myself on a diet to loose weight.

To make things worse, the heat and the nausea have made me very lax about going to the gym. I bet I haven't gone even four times in the past two weeks. I need to get back to being serious about this healthy lifestyle thing. Oh well, I guess I'm not getting the star patient of the week award this week.

The upside is that I have actually lost weight, so maybe that will be a redeeming grace at the appointment. I hate to have to tell her that I've been a bad patient.

No Video on Sunday

What's wrong with this picture? The screen above the stage is blank. No video, no words to the songs, no verses, nothing. Our brand spanking new, high tech church will be having a retro Sunday. Luckily the music that was planned was all oldies. Everyone should be familiar enough with the words to wing it. Guess I will be taking this Sunday off.

Yesterday could easily be two blog posts

Where do I begin? It was a bad day, all the way around. I turned the alarm off too many time and was scrambling to get out the door on time. Of course, I had to catch all 26 red lights on the way to pill hill. I arrived about 10 minutes late. I hate being late anywhere, but especially at doctor appointments. I got into the office and, well you know, hurry up and wait. What can I say. I eventually got into the mammogram room and the radiation tech had to do extra shots, but that's OK. I'd rather take a little more pain than them not be able to get good pictures. After the tech was done she told me to go to the ultrasound waiting area and after the ultrasound Dr M would see me. Dr. M again! I was adamant that no, I have an appointment with Dr. Sh. I had called in and corrected the mistake that someone in their office made on Wednesday. I was assured that I'd be seeing Dr. Sh. I don't know Dr. M. and it is not appropriate to see her. I returned to the waiting room with the tech's promise that she'd change the mistake. I was there for about 10 minutes when she called me back to the mammography suite to tell me that I hadn't been placed on Dr. Sh's schedule so I would have to see Dr. M. I picked up my purse and computer and said, "Well, I'm leaving then. There is no reason to stay." She asked me if I wanted to reschedule and I asked her what the point would be. I had to call in 8 months in advance to get this appointment and it is obvious that my appointment wasn't going to be honored. She said that if there was an issue that Dr. Sh would be in to see me. But that would include me trusting Dr. M, who is a radiologist not a surgeon, knowing what my breast feel like and that she'd catch a change. I said no, I would leave. She asked me to stay and she'd get the office manager. While I was waiting I began second guessing myself. Was I being ridiculous? Why was this making me so upset? Was it because of seeing the NP again in Dr. S's office? Maybe that had a little to do with it, but there was something more.

In any given year I will see Dr's Cs and B every other week. Dr. R I will see at least four times. Dr's K and Cn I will see twice. Dr's L, T, SH and P I will see once. I avoid Dr. F because he is a Cretin and I will see Dr's M and J if a problem comes up. My health care is already so fractionated. I know that Dr. R is supposed to be the gate keeper, but with so much information coming in from so many people, even he has a hard time keeping up.  When you start adding in all the NP's and associates and partners, then you add in emergency room doctors and hospitalists it's a whole lot of people. And every time I have to see someone new it's like starting over from scratch. We spend the whole appointment reviewing what's been covered. I'm not taking that medication because my cancer wasn't hormone sensitive. I can't take that group of medications because they prolong the QT interval. I really am allergic to codeine and Oxycontin. Toradol and Ibuprofen tend to work well. I really do love my CPAP and won't sleep without it. I don't smoke, but I grew up in a house full of smokers. I need you to use my right arm for procedures because I have left upper quadrant lymphedema. My t waves became notched and inverted after treatment for cancer. My QT prolongation is congenital. I'm alive because I suck at dying. I'm not making this stuff up because I didn't know what most of it was until I was diagnosed with it. Really, why would a healthy person even know what primary hyperaldosteronism is? It goes on and on. I don't expect my doctors to remember every little thing about me, but if I'm in my oncologists office I don't want to have to say I had invasive ductal carcinoma, grade 3, stage 3, er/pr-, her2neu+++, or explain that I didn't do herceptin or tykerb because of my history of heart problems. I expect that to already be known. I want to see doctors who already know what's going on and I just don't want any more doctors.

So what kind of sense did it make to accept an appointment with Dr. Fs at Dr. P's office? For one thing, Dr. R asked me to make an appointment to be seen by a dermatologist and Dr. P won't be back in the country for another 6 weeks. I've met Dr. Fs before, but not for an office visit. He spoke at a lunch and learn where I work. And frankly, I'm tired of having to clean my hair off of any surface that I'm near. I don't want to go completely bald and I need to get this taken care of. Dr. Fs looked at the pictures that I brought in and at my head and said that I had easily lost 75% of my hair. He asked a lot of questions and was very interested in the fact that I'm already taking spironolactone. He said that there are many things can make hair fall out, but my answers to his questions weren't leading him in any one direction. He seemed to be leaning toward androgenic alopecia, or female pattern baldness. He needed a biopsy to prove it or find out what else it might be. He closed the wound with two stitches which have been making me crazy and gave me a prescription for Lidex for a rash that I have on another area of my scalp. This highlights what I was saying in the paragraph above. Dr. P would know that I'm very squeamish about taking cortico-steroids. They make me fat and mean and I've already taken so many that I'm in danger of them causing problems with my bones. And with hyperaldosteronism, I'm already having issues with my adrenal cortexes. I would just prefer to avoid steroids if at all possible. Dr. Fs didn't know this, and since I'd never heard of Lidex before and the brand name doesn't give me any indication that it might be a steroid I didn't speak up.

After leaving Dr. Fs' appointment I went over to the lab for some blood work for Dr. Cn on Monday. I was looking at the orders while I was waiting and realized that Dr. S had done all the blood work that Dr. Cn wants when I was there on Wednesday. I called Dr. S's office and asked that they fax the results over and then left, grateful to not have another stick.

I left these appointments feeling a bit beat up. I still had one more task in my medical day. My new glasses needed to be adjusted. One of the stems had a screw that was coming loose and the glasses were slipping down my nose. The associate that I saw ordered a new frame for me because she is concerned that I would continue to have problems with this one. I will be able to pick it up next week.

When I got home, I did something stupid. I went to Dr. Google to find out about androgenic alopecia is. I can tell you, it really made me depressed. But what was more depressing was a whole list of things that make your hair fall out that I really don't even want to think about. And of course, since all these fall into the "oh shit" category of diagnosis's, I'd have to have all the symptoms of the worst two. Dr. Google is a terrible diagnostician, and a generally scary physician. The only thing he's good for is public health information on things that other doctors diagnose. And then what do you do with that information. Doctors don't even look at the reams of print outs that you take in to them. Who can blame them, it's all stuff they've read before. I think I need to ignore Dr. Google and wait for the results of the biopsy.

All in all, it was a crash and burn type day that left me with nightmares all night.

Not now, sometime later

I had planned to write about my medical day tonight. My surgical appointment was rough and stressing and my dermatology appointment included a biopsy. The biopsy was no big deal, but it has left me feeling headachey and shocky. So I will try to write about today tomorrow, or at least sometime in the near future. Tonight I'm going to be holding ice to my wound and resting.

Morning Mammography

My mammogram appointment is god awful early in the morning. I'm supposed to be there at 7: 40 for my 7:55 appointment. Uggh! I hate waking up early. The appointment will last 3.5 to 4 hours and when I leave I will either have an all clear or we need to look more closely at this report. But what bugs the hell out of me is during that time I will ring up a $12 parking fee. I know for sure that they aren't paying the attendant $12 an hour, and the lot has more than 200 spaces. Why does the parking need to be at such a premium. Aren't they making enough from my office visit?  Just saying...

After I leave there, if I have enough time, I will get lunch somewhere close by and then go to my second appointment of the day. I will be seeing an associate of my dermatologist to determine why my hair is falling out. I went on to Facebook today to get him pictures of me with hair so that he could get an idea of how much of my hair that has fallen out. Even I was shocked. I will bet that it is at least 75%.

The other thing I would like to accomplish tomorrow is to get my new glasses adjusted. They keep slipping off my nose, especially when I'm sweaty. I may go to the gym after that, and then on to see a movie or two.  Hello weekend...I am glad that you are going to give us a break from the heat.

Bate and Switch, why am I surprised?

I was on my way home and was kind of hungry. But it's hot and the last thing I want to do is turn the oven on to heat the house up. Also, in the morning I have a breakfast meeting and the fare is bound to be muffins and bagels. Kind of hard to reach my 70 grams of protein eating that. So I decided to stop by the BP on the way home and pick up a couple of protein bars. I know that the Kroger across the street sells the same bars for almost a dollar less each. But that would mean that I'd have to walk all the way through the store and find the bars then likely wait in line to get them. I decided that the extra cost would be worth it. The bars were on the shelf, and had a tag that said they were $2.79 each. the tag even had the Met-Rx logo it, and the description Protein Plus. It was about 20 cents less than I was expecting so I was happier about buying them. But when I went to the register the clerk told me they total was $8.11. Umm, excuse me? I asked him how much he'd charged, and he told me they are $3.79 each. I said no, the tag says they are $2.79. He said the vendor had moved them around and the tags were wrong. I told him the tag had a logo and a description. He asked me if I wanted to buy something else.  NO! In fact I'm not even going to buy these and I won't be back for anything else ever. The Kroger had them 10 for $10. I bought 20 so I will have them available when I want them. One dollar or more than three...I'm always in for a deal.

I probably would have been upset and walked out of the BP anyway, but it was made worse because it was compounded by two things that happened earlier in the day. Yesterday was my oncology appointment. In January I postponed the appointment so that I would be able to see Dr. S. Still, when I got to the appointment I was seen by the NP, Q instead. When I asked about why my appointment had been switched I was told that at this appointment, I would see the oncologist. That didn't happen. Q came into the room anyway. When I pointed out that I'd been assured that my appointment was with Dr. S she said that he was busy with a new diagnosis, and if I wanted to see him I'd have to make another appointment. I'm speechless. I would have waited, I've waited in that office so many times, I plan for it. I was disappointed. Q asked if there had been any changes and I told her about the x-ray and the diagnosis that there was a thickening in my fibula that was causing pain. Her only reaction was that she'd check my blood work. Seriously, Dr. S has sent me to have a CT scan just because I had a headache. She was shrugging off an abnormal x-ray without looking into it. She did the physical exam and the only thing she did that remotely seemed like she had a clue was check for abnormal axillary nodes. But it was on the side where the nodes have been removed. She just wasn't giving me anything to be confident with. When I met with the doctors at Vanderbilt, there was a question about the total dose of Adriamycin that I was given. The doctors at Vanderbilt seemed to think that it was 240 mgs, while I had been told in the past that it was 450 mgs. There is a big clinical risk factor in the two dosages, so I wanted that cleared up. She said that she'd have to go back through the record to calculate it, and that she'd get back with me. I don't have a lot of confidence that she will. This is the second appointment with her that I have had where she has not answered my questions and the second of three where she has dismissed issues that are of concern to me. I have not seen Dr. S in two years even though I keep all of my appointments. Can I even claim to have an oncologist? I am on the edge of looking for another provider.

I went back to my office upset and angry about the appointment that I had just left. It was hard to work. It got even harder when I came back to my cube to an e-mail message asking me to confirm my Friday appointment with Dr. M at my surgical oncologists office. Excuse me? I had an appointment with Dr SH and have never heard of Dr. M. I don't know who she is. I called the office and was put on hold. After what seemed like 20 minutes I was sent into a voicemail. I left an "I'm very unhappy with this" message, with information to call me back, but no one did.  Instead I got an automated text message telling me that my appointment was with Dr. M and was at 7:55. No! no! no! no! no! Not going to happen! I have to call 8 months in advance to get that appointment and I'm not going to agree to see a doctor that I have never seen before and don't know. Most of my efforts to object met the same voice mail. Finally, after calling the office manager I got help. My appointment is with Dr. SH. But it will be a work-in because my appointment was scheduled with Dr. M. How did that happen? Who decided that Dr. M is my doctor?  I still don't know who she is.

So how are my experiences with my doctors and the convenience store clerk different? At the convenience store I had the option to walk away from the purchase. And lets face it, a mistake in pricing isn't going to adversely affect my health. My doctors on the other hand, offer me no choice. They think that who my providers are is their decision, not mine. If I get up and walk out, I will still get charged for the appointment and will be labeled as a difficult patient. How is that fine with anyone?

I don't know why this arrogance surprises me. I should come to expect it by now. I should have another option, but I don't. I have a painful thickening of my fibula and a NP for an oncologist. How is that acceptable?

Beneath the surface

I have been silent here for a while. Only posting the safe things, but not the ugly things that lie just beneath the surface. I'd much rather put on a pretty smile, tell you that everything is fine. That I'm fine, even when I know that  I'm not. That's just pretty much how I roll with things until they go so deep that I feel that they are capable of drowning me. I think it's odd that I can see this in myself, but it always surprises me when I see it in other people. It surprises me even when I know that it's there, but then it makes a stand and is out where everyone can see it.

Having survived childhood and cancer, I have a lot of scars on my body. Some of them are in places that can be seen but time has made them so thin they are barely noticeable. There is one on the palm of my hand that I got when I was eight and I tripped on a tree root and landed on a tent stake. It is so well healed now that I have to flex my fingers to make it visible at all. A serendipity about that scar was that my ex husband had a matching scar on his hand that he got falling out of a tree when he was eight years old. In my youthful nietivity I saw it as a sign that we were meant to be together. Well, I guess that theory didn't pan out.  And there is a scar on my forearm that when it first healed was large and purple, but the years since I was 14 have turned it just slightly more white than the skin surrounding it and it has shrunk in size. If you were a med-tech studying my arm to find a vein you might notice it,but no one else ever does. The scars on the surface shrink and fade with time and age. Even the scars from my surgeries for cancer are fading away, looking like a fine white line circling my left nipple and extending toward my arm pit. The scar where my port-a-cath was now resembles wrinkles near my shoulder than it does the wounds that the two surgeries left. Even when people see them as I'm changing bras at the gym locker room, they don't notice them.

The deeper scars that cancer caused, the ones that reach into my soul, have not fared so well. It's the same for many of the deep scars left there by things like being an Army brat who didn't know her father as a young child because he was so often away for years at a time. Scars left by the rejection of family and friends who didn't have the wisdom to accept me for me, instead of trying to force into the mold of who they thought I should be. And definitely the scars of being abandoned by the man who made a covenant to love me and then didn't. Those scars reach up from inside and shake me to the core sometimes. I have been dealing with that a lot lately. Watching my grandson's trying to interact with their father makes me want to weep. Seeing a soldier hug his wife and a young child when he returns home brings tears to my eyes. Watching friends who are picking apart their marriages with judgemental condemnation of their spouse makes me want to confront them with the reality of what they are doing. But every time I talk to them it is through a veil of tears. I can't make them hear or understand the gravity of what their attitudes and actions is causing. Scars left on the surface of the soul don't turn into fine white lines that shrink away with time. They remain and color actions and reactions, attitudes and abilities for the rest of your life. Two things lately have highlighted this for me in dramatic ways.

The first happened late last week while I was at work. A co-worker, one of the manager's that I support sent me an e-mail. She had gotten a request and wanted to follow through with it. A friend of a child with Down's syndrome had written her and told her that this little boy had recently been diagnosed with leukemia. He loves tee shirts and this person was organizing a campaign to get as many tee shirts for the boy as possible. He was writing companies and asking for us to send a tee shirt directly to the child. He uncannily sent the request to the one person in our company that would be shaken by the circumstance. Peggy had a brother with Down's syndrome who died of leukemia. Her brother's death left a deep scar in Peggy's soul. I know this because Peggy and I had discussed it one time when she came to visit me on the oncology ward at St. Joe's. Of course we would send the child a tee shirt and I threw in a backpack too. But this simple request, that we were honored to fulfill touched the deep scars that cancer has left on both of our souls. Like the matching scars on our hands that my ex husband and I had, Peggy and I shared this scar. We were both a bit weepy that day.

The second thing that happened was that Lizzie called me one evening upset by something that had happened at work that day. She had been waiting on a table that was occupied by a man and his two sons and a toddler aged daughter. The man and his oldest son had been having an argument when the son got up and ran out of the restaurant. The man ran out after him and the middle son followed him leaving the daughter at the table alone. Lizzie sat with the toddler as she waited for the father to return. The situation touched deep into her soul, not only because it is sad and wrong for the family to leave the little girl alone, but because she saw the deepest hurts in her soul revealed by the scene. God gives us those moments to clarify and get us to confront our pain and our fears. When Lizzie was seven, my oldest son left for college. Shortly after that my ex husband moved out of our house and in with his girl friend. Quickly following this, my middle son joined the Army and went away to basic training. In her mind, she had been abandoned by them in the same order this little girl had just been abandoned by her family. This scene had ripped through the surface appearance of "everything is great" that she had portrayed and revealed the scar that was lying beneath. When she told me the story my twin scar of abandonment was brought to the surface too. The sadness of that time and the frustration that I will never get her to see that she wasn't truly abandoned, because her reality is that she was left behind. It showed another soul scar in me too, that I don't think Lizzie truly understands. I could never get her to see that I stayed with her. I was there and I was not enough. It really hurts that I was not enough. The image of her curled into a fetal position wailing "why does everybody leave me!" will never leave my soul, or her's either. The scar will never get smaller or blend in with the surrounding skin. It will only lurk beneath the surface until something comes up to bring it back out into the open.

The scars that cancer left on my skin are nothing compared to the scars that it left on my soul. When people see me, they don't even see the physical scars. The scars on my torso are covered by reconstructive surgery and well hidden by clothes. My left arm is swollen with lymphedema, but you'd have to be comparing it to my right arm to even notice. The scars that are left on my soul  are monsters that lie beneath. They are brought up to the surface at times like now when I am waiting to see my oncologist to see if the ominous burning pain and thickening of my lower fibula is a metastasis. It shakes me so deeply that I have difficulty articulating it. Other than what I've written here and spoken about with my doctors, I have not mentioned it to anyone. As if voicing it will make it real. Even with my doctors, I have not said "can we see what this is because I'm afraid it might be breast cancer."

Waiting to see a dermatologist to determine what is causing my hair to fall out is equally as frightening. On the surface of my soul are scars from every time I have been given a bad diagnosis, heard a doctor tell me that this is potentially fatal. It is why it is still shocking for me to see the diagnosis of type 2 diabetes on my PHR anew after follow up visits with my doctor. I don't want another pill or diagnosis. I don't want to have to put one more thing on that all too long of a list of past medical history. It is embarrassing when I have to share it with another medical professional. And worse, when they roll their eyes and don't believe that I have these things it cuts a little deeper into my scarred up soul. I don't put anything on the list unless it has a measurable test and can be verified by something other than a diagnosis by elimination. But I don't want to be bald either. I'm rather tired of constantly having to clean up my hair and leaving hundreds upon hundreds on DNA markers everywhere. So my fearful soul consults Dr. Google, even though I know that he is always wrong and can't be trusted. He is only a good source of information after a definitive diagnosis has already been made by someone who actually went to medical school. The things I read frighten me and make me angry at my body for failing one more time. I go around with a smile and tell everyone that I'm fine and that everything is good because I just can't bear the shame of one more health problem. Sometimes it seems like all I am is a health problem. I would love to go back to that time when I was the lady that ran the video ministry and sang real bad in karaoke. Who went to field trips and drill meets and organized class reunions. Because even though I still can do those things, I'm still that lady who is sick all the time. It stinks.

So now it's time to paste on a smile and cover all those scars one more time. Try to remain a part of this life and not be a medical statistic. I have to remember that everyone has scars. It's just part of living. Sometimes I'd just like to live it a bit more transparently.

I'm in Fort Stewart spending the holiday weekend with my son and his family. Let me tell you, the South is hot in the summer! But a wade pool is just the thing to cool off in. Clifton and Tony had a wonderful time splashing around today. Tomorrow we will go the the fair and concert and fireworks. But today was a good time in the front yard washing cars and cooling off in the pool. I guess the boys won't need baths tonight.