On today’s episode of what I’m calling the “Healthcare Olympics,” we navigated Macon in the rain, in a wheelchair, with one hand guiding the chair and one hand holding the umbrella. It is a wonder I didn’t dump Mama in the middle of the road. We have to get through this with humor so buckle up. (In her case, she could have benefited from that in the literal sense.) Also on the bright side, I didn’t break any of her toes or anyone else’s whilst driving the wheelchair. No walls were damaged either which was quite the miracle.
When we walked in the building, a lady announced that the elevator was only going up and we would have to walk down. To which I had to scratch my head because unless it was perpetually coming up from the depths of hell, it had to come down in order to go up. Also, how did she propose we would walk down the steps in a wheelchair? The ride inside in the rain had been loads of fun but I bet bouncing down seven flights of stairs could have its own special appeal, though I’d rather not experience it first hand.
I kept thinking how awful it would be if Mama had to navigate all of this by herself today. I saw plenty of sick folks who looked just as perplexed as we were with finding our way. It was like playing a game of Frogger with a bunch of other folks in wheelchairs, walkers, and on oxygen. I’m grateful to work in healthcare and understand things as well as I do. But my heart goes out to those who are clueless. It is hard to find your way around a big, unfamiliar building after winding around a seemingly unending parking deck to find a spot to park. Then, you have to get inside the building and locate the floor you belong on. It looked like a list of scrabbledy doo (official word) after scrambling inside from the cold rain. Let’s not even talk about the 900 pages of paperwork that had to be completed before we could get “in line” to be seen. It’s a necessary evil but when you’re just ready to get it all over with, it feels like you’re writing the encyclopedia of your life.
Once we got the paperwork done, everything else moved pretty smoothly. As we were waiting for the doctor to come in, Mama said, “I Googled the doctor. He’s 74.” Those of you who know her already know she said that with a frown, even though she worked until she was 80. I reassured her that his age meant he was very experienced. She looked at me, “You think?” Either that or he got a late start in medicine.
Today’s visit was with the Pulmonologist. The 74 year old Pulmonologist who is quite experienced and kind. He listened to her lungs and asked the same questions we’d filled out on the paper and also answered for the medical assistant. He then invited us to his office where he showed us the results of the PET scan. His computer monitor was the size of the TV on which I used to play my Atari, about 13 inches. As he moved his mouse around, the screen transformed into one big blob to another blob, and he explained the best he could. The bottom line is that she has a big mass in her chest and part of it is resting on her aorta. He recommended a bronchoscopy for the biopsy since we needed to know what we were dealing with and what treatment would be best. They are trying to schedule that for this Friday if we can get added to the schedule. In the meantime, he ordered some steroids to help bring some of the inflammation down before the biopsy procedure. We’ve both had trouble sleeping and steroids are not going to make it any better. If you see either of us chewing on a power line later this week, mind your own business and let us find our energy the best way we can.
Things are moving a lot faster than I expected but I am very thankful that she has a care team that means business. The sooner we know what it is, the sooner we know more than we know now. And, that is truly all we can hope for at this point. Tomorrow is another appointment for the MRI of her brain and Thursday is the Oncologist.
If you’ve never participated in the Healthcare Olympics, Google “Wacky Races” cartoons. Then watch an episode. It’s very relatable.
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