June 1, 2011
I met with
my bride to be the oncologist. She was a nice lady. She reminds me of the Oracle for some reason. Not trying to be all philosophical and she’s a deity. It’s just the way she looks at you. She’ll ask a question in calm, concerning way, and then tilt her head down to look at you over her glasses. Then she took a drag off her cigarette and told me she’s sorry, but I’m not, “The One.” She gave her best guess as to what I’m dealing with, but everything is just a guess at this point. I’m sure they don’t want to misinform a patient or scare them, so she cheered me up and told me she thought it was either Lymphoma or Thymoma. Oooh, Thymoma, I haven’t test driven this one yet. From what I understand, Thymoma, is some sort of thing that’s inside you from birth. It normally shrinks as you get older, but in some freak cases, it’ll keep growing. And it looks like a monk fish. This is what I was told. She said I needed to get a biopsy before we could draw any conclusions. She didn’t seem too concerned or show any sense of urgency. Maybe it’s not that big of a deal. I’m sure she’s seen many patients with a Mr. Potato Head growing in their chest.
The next appointment was with the thoracic surgeon, who will perform the biopsy. The original doctor was out of my insurance network, so I had to reschedule. Luckily, I was able to get an appointment with this one right away. I want to get things going and not waste any more days than I need to. He walked in the room, looked at me sitting on the patients table, then looked at my 65 yr old dad. He pointed at both of us in confusion, “who’s the patient here?” My dad probably fits his demographic better than I do. The doctor was an older man. Actually, he was a lot older than I thought he was going to be, with droopy eyes and cheeks and a slight hunch from years of bad posture. His age is a little concerning, since he would be cutting me up and digging around my chest cavity. I liked him though. He was right to the point. He asked me questions and immediately cut me off. In a move only an old guy could pull off, he would shake his head and hands if he didn’t care for my answer. Like, Mr. Miyagi correcting Daniel-san. Erica likened him to the Soup Nazi. This doc was no BS. I told him what my symptoms have been. He looked at my paperwork and the lab results from the lung fluid. He reviewed them and said it looked promising, but inconclusive. I would still need to get a biopsy. He hadn’t reviewed the images from the CT scan yet. He would review them with his radiologist on Monday, since he probably left for the weekend already. He would call me on Tuesday and we’ll go from there. No news, another copayment and I need a biopsy.