Quickest Run Down. Evar.

All I can say is that it’s amazing how little pain killers do without the help of anti-inflammatories… I can only take Tylenol until they biopsy my ass cheek, and Tylenol sucks. It sucks with the narcotics that tag team with it sometimes, it sucks without it… it just plain sucks. And it kind of sucks more because the biopsy (which sounds like a straight forward needle deal, which is a huge relief) has not been scheduled. The orthopedic guy said it should be before Wednesday, so I should stop taking naproxen. But if it isn’t scheduled by day’s end, um… I think stopping Sunday might be just fine and spare me some agony.

Of course, it isn’t my ass cheek that hurts… or my joints or anything, really. It’s my damned ears/eyes/face. The ass cheek… right.

It apparently is somewhere between 2-3 cms in size. I get the impression the size was borderline for “let’s just watch and see what happens” (I think once it hits the 4-5 cm range they don’t question at all).  I also get the impression that given my history, how I looked in his office (it was noon thirty before he came in, and courtesy of not having a rest, a Ritalin, or a drink of any variety, my face was fire engine red. My legs were purple, and my knees were mustard yellow. Yeah, I am puzzled by that one too, but it’s been like that for a couple years), and the fact that he could move my leg every which way and I didn’t feel anything unusual, and then he pressed on it and I did feel something unusual — a biopsy was in order.

It was kind of funny. I mean, you press into my hip joints on any given day and they hurt. I mean, the damn things routinely semi-dislocate anyway. So he did that, and yeah, it hurt. And then he started squishing around on my lower back and it was like… oh, hey, that’s okay, and then a little lower and I was like, “Huh…yeah. I do feel that. It doesn’t hurt a boatload, but it probably shouldn’t feel like much of anything.”

He also wanted to know when I was diagnosed. I said I’d let him know when it happened. Heh. That is a slightly uneasy feeling, as he had kind of assumed I was a veteran of Dana Farber and like institutions. At any rate, we don’t know what we’re going to see here, or if it’s anything at all beyond “hey look, another group of cells hanging out and aggravating tissue they shouldn’t be anywhere near… but they’re mostly good cells that just got misguided.”  At this point, it almost doesn’t matter. I mean, it does… If there’s something that suggests malignancy (I mean, more directly than the fact that normal looking cells accumulating in your lungs and thymus and pituitary is something to keep a good close eye on) it would very much change the approach. In terms of outcome, I’m not sure much changes. This is going to be a game of whack a mole from here on out, I am afraid. And malignant or not, it isn’t really a great situation. In some ways, I wonder if a history of malignancy wouldn’t motivate more proactive care on the part of some doctors.

Guess what I’m saying is a variant of my old standby: Lots of things can kill you that aren’t cancer. Lots of things can be horribly debilitating that aren’t cancer. And cancers can be horribly debilitating, long term, and not necessarily kill you.  Not much I can do about what it actually finally is (and when it is finally determined — I expect the next growth they spot will STILL be cause for more debating)… but as much as it sucks to have things discovered, the more we know means the better we are able to deal with it.

When the biopsy is finally scheduled (he said it should be by mid-week that it is over and done. I don’t know) it’ll be another week to ten days and we’ll see what they say. Mr. Shoe and I suspect they might find Penny the pug up there. I mean, where ever I go, there she is.

Mama!

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