New Moon on Monday

A brief warning for the faint of heart: the following commentary contains potentially disturbing descriptions. Continue at your own risk…

Today I spent a little less than 3 hours playing “upstairs / downstairs” with my radiation and medical oncologists. I wanted to get my blood drawn before my 9:30 radiation run-through. Needles give me anxiety, and I fully expected the labs to be the worst part of my morning. I walked into the second floor medical office at 9:00.  I quickly learned that on a Monday morning, the wait for the lab is significantly longer than 30 minutes.

Note to Self #1 – Set aside at least ­one full hour for required Monday morning blood work.  Set aside two hours on the Tuesday after Memorial Day.

So, down I went to the first floor radiation office, where they inquired about the status of my chemo meds.  I explained that my pharmacy did not stock them, and planned to ask the medical staff to order them for me when I went upstairs later for my labs.  Guess what; my plan was flawed.  The radiation staff told me to go back to medical right away, so their staff could start the process required to get my meds to me.   I went up, submitted the request, and came back down again.

Note to Self #2 – Wear comfortable shoes to all oncology appointments.

Back down in radiation, my nurse practitioner informed me that the doctor needed to speak with me before my appointment with the technicians.  I was ushered into an exam room and left to wait with nothing for company but my own neuroses.  In less than 10 minutes, I had myself convinced that something was horribly wrong.  By the time a nurse popped in to apologize for the delay, I was a mess.  When I asked her if she knew why the doctor needed to see me, she explained that he just wanted to “touch base” and see how I was feeling. 

Note to Self #3 – Stop assuming all news is bad.  You are your own worst enemy.

Moving on to my appointment with the technicians, the real fun was about to begin.  It was time for x-rays and my final mark-up for radiation. I lay prone on my stomach on a table, my hips slightly elevated. One blanket covered my back; another covered my legs, leaving only the area between them exposed. Not the most dignified position, to be sure.  I just took a deep breath and reminded myself that this indignity was necessary to save my life.  When I think about it that way, this awkward position, hitherto known as “downward facing moon”, doesn’t seem so bad.

The x-rays were routine and only took a few minutes; the final mark up, however, was definitely the strangest part of this journey thus far.  Two technicians began to mark my exposed skin with Sharpies. (At least I think there were two of them; I was face down at the time.)  You’d be amazed at what passes through your mind when total strangers are drawing lines and circles on your ass.  Here are a few of the random thoughts that meandered through my brain:

·         I wonder if these guys loved to doodle and draw with sidewalk chalk as children?

·         I can’t imagine any child saying, “I want to draw on butts and boobs when I grow up.”

·         Wow, my ass is way more ticklish than I thought it was.

·         Are they playing connect the dots?

·         I feel like a table covering at the Macaroni Grill.

Believe it or not, it gets stranger from here. 

When I finally made it back to the changing room to dress, I glanced at the technicians’ handiwork, which was an odd combination of blue and red lines, crosses, and circles. It looked like Pablo Picasso and Salvador Dali played a bizarre game of tic-tac-toe on my rear.  

Breathe in.  Breathe out. Move on. It’s time to go back up to medical for my labs.

While waiting for the lab, I decided to use the bathroom.  Never in a million years would I have guessed the most mortifying part of my day was about to occur.  Upon finishing what was necessary in the restroom, I stood to discover the red and blue lines had transferred from my bottom to the toilet seat!  I was horrified.  Frantic attempts to remove the ink were not successful.  I finally gave up, put the seat up, and walked out.  Something tells me I’m not the first patient to leave my mark in such a way.

Note to Self #4 – Tuck a Mr. Clean Magic Eraser into your purse for all future radiation appointments.

I’m glad to report the guys who draw blood are wonderful.  Single stick – in and out.  Go figure, getting stuck with a needle was actually the best part of the morning.  J