I have been scheduled for my blood work appointment tonight (at 6:45pm) for at least a month. Nothing has changed with this. This afternoon around 3:40pm I received a call from a 212 area code. I've come to learn that whenever a number with this area code shows up - it's always Sloan. Here I'm thinking they've rescheduled my three December appointments (12/5, 12/7 AND 12/12...even people without jobs would never make that trek into the city three separate times in one week) into something slightly more feasible...and logical. This is what I hear on the other end of the phone: "Hi...are you almost here? Or are you on your way?" Um, I'm sitting in my desk chair at work...?
Apparently, since I clearly have psychic abilities that everyone knows about, I was just supposed to know that they scheduled me to meet with my Oncologist (that's right - the same one I met with 7 days ago...) to "re-consent" to my Trial at 3:15pm today. Riiiight. The girl on the other end of the phone - who I always enjoy when I see her - had no idea that I had no idea about my 3:15pm appointment and asked me if the lab was even open at 6:45pm. Ha. She said she would call me right back once she found out what the heck was going on.
An hour later I called my doctor's office to find out what was happening since I was scheduled to leave for the train 25 minutes later to go to my actual appointment. My doctor wound up getting on the phone to say she had no idea what was happening and that long story short, they changed some of the blood work from week 17 to this week, so I had to sign off on it again. Which is fine - just let me know what the hell is going on! She stated she would sign her portion of the paperwork and leave it for me to sign once I got to my blood work appointment later that night.
Off I go to my appointment. My mother and I arrive a few minutes early to which the nurse looks at me like I have 17 heads and tells me the Trial nurse left because they said I cancelled my appointment for that night.
I wish I had a personal photographer (for many reasons) to catch the array of faces I must make during my visits to Sloan. Needless to say, multiple phone calls were made to I'm sure many people who were on their way home from work. My paperwork that was supposed to be signed and waiting for me was nowhere to be found. The nurse on duty (who is always very nice whenever I see her) had no idea how much blood to draw. Finally, my Oncologist called back stating that since my paperwork had somehow gone missing from the time it was sent down the two floors from her office to the lab, I would only be able to get my blood work done that was originally supposed to be drawn. Fine. At this point I just wanted something to be done so I would know I didn't waste my time/money rushing into the city.
For the second time in a week, my blood was drawn without me going into a full-fledged panic attack. I think I was even calmer seeing that only 3 vials were being taken. After the nurse was done and I was guzzling orange juice, she stated that since we didn't have the signed consent, the other 10 VIALS that were supposed to be drawn tonight couldn't be.
Excuse me? An additional 10 VIALS? That would make 13 in total tonight should they have actually had my paperwork. Are they trying to bleed me dry?! No sooner did she say that, that I started to feel the blood drain from my face and my anxiety start to kick in. I talked myself down from an attack, reassuring myself that at least I wouldn't need to go through that tonight. But would this mean I'd have to come back since not everything was done? I'm nervous not only because I'm not looking forward to another appointment - but also because what if this screws up my Trial somehow? I didn't go through all the crap I've already gone through and pumped with some unknown substance into my body for it to just suddenly mean nothing. I guess I'm going to have to call my doctor later this week to find out for sure.
As I was walking out with my mother I made a comment that I would have to include tonight's events in my next blog. She shot back that maybe I should write about Sloan in a positive way rather then a negative one. I don't agree with her that I've been portraying Sloan in a negative light. I just want to be clear - that hospital has done miracles with me and I will forever be grateful for the amazing doctor's I've come in contact with there. I'm alive and well today because of them. However, when I started writing this blog I made it a point to commit to documenting everything along this journey - both good and bad. This is life and shitty things happen all the time. People fuck up. Mistakes happen. I just wish they wouldn't happen so often in my world but hey - what can ya do!
At least the softball size welt that I usually get from my vaccination didn't seem as bad this time around. I didn't really have a lot of pain and you can see that the spot isn't as large. Perhaps there is a "sweet spot" on my arm that when injected into that specific area, my reaction isn't as severe.
To close out my thoughts for tonight, I'd just like to take a moment to talk to all the "social" smokers out there. I can proudly say that I have no regrets in my life. I did everything I did because at the time I did it, I thought it was the "right" thing to do and I trust myself and know that I've learned from many, many mistakes I've made along the way. One of the things I would do differently if I could do it over would be to never have been a "social" smoker in my earlier years.
I was never a smoker. However, when I would drink if someone was holding a cigarette I would take a few drags. Why? Why did I ever do this? Honestly - what is the point? What did it get me? I haven't touched a cigarette in about 6 years...this isn't because of Cancer. This is because I realized how incredibly fucking dumb it was. It didn't do anything for me but give me a headache and a sore throat. I was scared it was going to fuck up my voice. Ha.
I've had way too many heated discussions with friends and loved ones regarding the dangers of only being a "social" smoker. The sad fact of the matter is, no one understands unless they actually have to go through something themselves. I haven't touched a cigarette in years - yet I wound up with Cancer in my lung. It's so unfair...yet I wouldn't wish this fucking disease on my worst enemy. However, I do wish I could make people understand that every time you inhale all those poisons/chemicals, you're that much closer to having your worst nightmares come true.
This isn't a joke. It's a cold and extremely lonely place when you're the one the doctor is showing the scans of a malignant tumor to. When you're the one questioning how much longer you're expected to live. When you're the one sitting in the waiting room of a hospital, watching dying people sitting across from you...and to your left...and to your right...all hanging onto the hope that they might get a few more years, or months...or days.
It's especially lonely when you watch people you care so much about voluntarily stick that cigarette in their mouth after they were hysterically crying about how broken they were knowing you have Cancer again only a few months ago. I honestly wish I was without a fucking care in the world and could have the option to light up whenever I felt like it. Why not? People do it all the time. But at what cost? I guess they never really think there is a cost until something horrible happens to them. Clearly it's not enough when something horrible happens to someone they love and apparently care so much about.
There are many things in this life that I have questioned and will continue to question. That will forever remain one of them. How someone could be so close to another that they go to every doctor's appointment. Sit through every anxiety attack. Watch every tear fall from that other person's eyes. See all the pain and torment that other person has as they battle a life-threatening disease that they got stuck with for no apparent and good reason...yet they voluntarily put themselves at risk for the same disaster to happen to them. I don't understand. It doesn't make any sense. It makes me so extremely angry - and it always will. I'm the one that wound up with this, yet I'm the one that always tried to keep it away.
Think before you act, people. Is it really worth it in the end?
And as for the 10 additional vials of blood...all I have to say to you is...
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