Doctors' Appointments

 

I have become my Mother.

I used to tease her about all the doctors' appointments she had in her final years. She would respond "You're time is coming." Well folks, it "my time" is here.

Today I took Bill to the VA Outpatient Clinic in Georgetown for his COVID booster shot. I asked about getting a fourth COVID vaccination for myself and they told me it wasn't ready yet.

This morning I had my annual CAT-SCAN to check up on any kidney stone production my body insists on making despite my pleas to "please stop!" 

I see my urologist next month to go over that CAT-SCAN. 

He also wants me to take a blood test to check my PSA levels. I am a prostate cancer surviver, nine years now since I had my radioactive seed implants. Hooray!

My oncologist's office contacted me yesterday. She said the good doctor wants more blood tests. It seems I have a low oxygen white cell blood count. I'm "right on the border" according to my oncologist. "On the border" to what he's not exactly saying but I suspect it is blood cancer. What else could it be? Lymphoma. My youngest brother had lymphoma. So far I don't show any signs but who knows what the future holds for me? I hope a lovely modern home in Palm Springs with a low HOA on fee land and a fabulous view of the San Jacinto mountains.

My oncologist had also scheduled an ultra sound. 

So here we are, three tests scheduled at three different locations for two different doctors. How about scheduling them all at the same time (morning preferably, I need my afternoon nap), at the SAME location. That is what I did this afternoon. Took some doing but after I scheduled them all at the same time then I had to reschedule when I would see my oncologist who would probably give me some more concerning news. At my age folks, eighty for those of you who don't follow this blog on a regular basis, getting results of medical tests is always concerning. 

I still remember the first time I got the results of my prostate cancer (torture) specimen (took 12 samples of my prostate gland by stringing me up like a woman having a baby) and the doctor very matter of factly said "You have cancer." I felt like the Walter White character in "Breaking Bad", I wasn't hearing what I was hearing, all I could concentrate on was the mustard stain on my doctor's tie but he didn't have a tie. 

So there you go folks, I'm on the medical treadmill again. It gets discouraging but as I always tell myself, it could be a lot worse.