Limbo

you know, limbo.

I met with Dr. L, the pulmonologist, today (I figure I will try to give out some anonymity whenever possible).  Although we waited for more than 45 minutes to see him, he was very patient and kind once we got into his office.  He looked at my recent scans (and showed them to us on the computer - I still think it's very cool how you can look at a moving cross section of your insides), listened to all that I had to say, and gave me a prescription for time.  He does not believe going on steroids is necessary or would even be helpful, as the side effects would probably outweigh the benefits.  He thinks that my symptoms are not even pulmonary, even though I feel like I'm breathing through cotton balls all the time. 

So it's back to the cardiologist I go.  In less than two weeks, I will repeat an echocardiogram to make sure there is no structural damage that could be causing my mystery symptoms.  In my mind, I'm already trying to decide which hospital will host me for my stem cell transplant (somewhere with clean air and very knowledgeable and kind medical staff).  While everyone wants to roll their eyes at me, I can't shake the feeling that it still seems inevitable.   

The bronchoscopy final results are in (thank you, Dr. L for sharing this information with me).  The good news:  everything's negative.  The bad news: everything's negative.  Not that I would enjoy harboring a fungal infection, but I would appreciate some answers.  It is so frustrating to visit, call and email doctor after doctor, only to be referred to a different doctor.  No explanations, no magic pills, no free lunch in this town, that's for durn sure.  I was complaining about this to my brother the other night on the phone, when he reminded me they call it "practicing" medicine for a reason.

I wish I were just conjuring these feelings up - I wish it was all caused by anxiety.  But I promised myself I would trust my body, I would listen to the aches and pains instead of ignoring them and deprioritizing myself. 

If it were only time that I needed, you'd think insurance would cover that.  After all, the cost of daily living is most definitely lower than the cost of chemo and radiation.  Alas, no.  I have to make a decision about work, and fast, as these summer days do not last forever.  I'm stuck here, not wanting to make a decision that could cost me a spot in my school, because maybe all I need is a few more months to heal.

If any of you faithful readers have a crystal ball you can lend me, I think I'd be really good at Divination...

xxoo

Unimpressive

not quite a green machine.

I finally spoke to both doctors (both Dr. H's) after dropping a copy of my scan off at Abington Hospital yesterday morning.  The impressions are the same:  they believe it is just persistent pneumonitis in my left lung.  According to the report, the infiltrate found a month ago is getting smaller (without treatment, obviously), which indicates it is most likely not a fungal or mycobacterial infection.  But without the final results from the bronchoscopy, Dr. Henry will not treat the inflammation with any meds (such as pukey p).  I have mixed feelings about this.

On the one hand, I am quite relieved.  I don't wanna take the pukey p.  I'd rather have inflammation than infection and most definitely would rather have pneumonitis than cancer.  FO SHO.

On the other hand, I would love to take a pill and feel better.  Yeah, that's not happening. 

When I spoke to Dr. Henry last night, I really enjoyed how he described me: as electric!  Whoo!  I can honestly say I've never been called electric before.  I am still smiling.  He believes I could power a small city with the energy created by all of my anxiety.  Dan's response:  a small city? 

And did I say I was doing a 30 day all green diet?  Oh, that must've been a typo.  I meant to say 3 day all green diet.  I got super hungry today and ate a handful of shredded wheat with almond milk.  I wasn't feeling any better, and I need immediacy.  So while I will still continue to eat all of the greens I bought in preparation for the green-ness to follow, I will probably not be looking like Elphaba come August (unless.... I regain my ability to breath normally and a Broadway casting agent comes looking for an understudy...). 

xxoo