For whatever reason moo knew is not allowing me to update posts without publishing them many, many times, so I shall start a new one, eh, my devoted Cake Eater readers, and avoid the hassle.

The biopsy went fine. I was very nervous until I actually got to the hospital, at which point I calmed down. I don't know why, but the point you'd think I'd be getting even more nervous is actually when I calm down. It happens this way every time. I don't know why, but I suspect it has something to do with "action" and not just sitting around, stewing in my own juices. We got checked in, were handed a buzzing coaster, just like the type they give you at Cheescake Factory to inform you, an hour and a half later, your table is finally ready. Fortunately, it buzzed within about fifteen minutes, and we were off to Care Suites. It's not a good thing when the nurses and nurses aides start recognizing you. It's just not. No one wants to be a regular at the hospital. The Nurse's Aide who brought me down said, "You were just in here, weren't you?" Oh, God. Yeesh.

Despite that, I got settled in, had my IV started, blood drawn and sent off to the lab to make sure my platelets were at a level ideal enough for me not to bleed all over the CT scanner, and then I laid down in my oooga-boooga-uuuugggly gown and bathrobe to watch Anthony Bourdain tour New Orleans. I love the fact they have cable in these rooms. The lovely, soothing idiot box and my "educational programming" courtesy of the Discovery Corporation. Seriously. Nothing soothes quite like it. Anyway, right as Emeril looked like he was going to bust a nervy-looking Bourdain's chops, a RN showed up early to take me down to the CT scan. That doesn't happen very often, so I was wheeled down the hallway, and this time the husband came with, so he could be in on the chat with the radiologist. They had my previous CT scan up on the screen in their monitoring room, and after confirming that it was, indeed, my pelvis, the husband got curious, went over and looked through the window, and commented, "Nice monitor," as he walked back over to where I was sitting, on the CT scanner. You can take the geek out of the computer repair shop for the day, but you can't get rid of the geek entirely, I suppose.

The radiologist turned out to be a fairly nice, level-headed guy, who made the effort to appear as if he was on my level: he squatted down while he was talking to me, instead of hovering over me, which I have to say, was somewhat comforting, particularly considering the circumstances, which turned out to be trickier than I thought they would be. He made sure I understood the problem he was facing with my biopsy: the affected area was about a centimeter wide, and it was in an area with loads of blood vessels and intestines, just to make things more complicated. He told us that instead of coming in vertically with the biopsy needle, he was going to go in horizontally, starting at my hip bone and proceeding toward my pubic bone with a needle about the length of a pencil, because this would make things easier, with less chance of him rupturing a blood vessel, or puncturing something he shouldn't. (Although he did say he could go through a bowel loop "if he had to" and it wouldn't cause too much damage, but he'd prefer not to. I agreed that was probably wise. Curious, isn't it, the things you learn?) He was concerned that he wasn't going to be able to get a good sample, however, because, again, the affected area was so small and because lymph node tissue and fat pretty much look the same to the naked eye. He was afraid he wasn't going to get the right kind of tissue sample, and that it wasn't going to be enough to determine if it was, indeed, cancerous. He warned me that he might not be successful, and that I might wind up having to have a full-blown lymphnodectomy, despite his best efforts. They always seem to do that, these radiologists. I don't know why. It hasn't happened before, and I suspect this time won't be any different. Anyway, after the explanations were over and done with, the husband kissed me goodbye and we got down to business.

I had to have an introductory scan---with contrast!---to light up the vascular system, and all of the lovely blood vessels that the radiologist was determined not to hit with his needle. I hate the contrast. Yeeeuch. It makes you feel like you're having a hot flash whilst having to pee really badly. Awful stuff, but moving along, this is when the nurse shot me up with the IV sedation drugs, and from there on in, things get a little fuzzy. This radiologist wasn't too chatty, unlike my previous radiologists, and he was all business. In and out of the CT, some time spent with very long, very thin needles, everyone leaving the room and in and out of the CT machine again. Lather, rinse and repeat. Twice. By the end of it, I was informed he thought he'd gotten one very good sample, one not so great, and another that was fairly good. Hopefully that will be enough---and of the right stuff---for the pathology department to do their business. Then it was back to my room, where I ate lunch and watched War Games on tee vee until they finally released me, two hours later.

I slept off some of the drugs when I got here, and I felt a little more even-keeled after I ate dinner. Apparently, I need a lot of these drugs---the RN said the amount she had to give me was enough to fell the average little old lady---and it was apparent that I needed to take it easy. Right now, I'm sore, a wee bit woozy from all the drugs, and I'm about to move it back to the sofa, but will take a detour to the kitchen to pick up my ice pack, which is chilling in the freezer. I can only imagine how sore I'll be in the morning. I suspect it won't be pretty, but hopefully, it'll be ok.

In all respects.

Posted by: Kathy at 09:50 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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