Hard to believe but I have some good news. Oh my, that sounds terribly self absorbed. Well, I have been rather self absorbed lately. After a summer of delightful travel interspersed with trips to the hospital I've been feeling crappy and worried about my health.
My saddlebags that I wear on my saddlebags, that would be the bags of pee I clip to my underwear at my hips for those of you needing more explanation, haven't been cooperating. I went in recently to have the nephrostomies converted to internal stents so I can pee like a normal person instead of drenching the bed, or my leg periodically (yep, it happened at work). They are very nice in the Interventional Radiology suite, especially a nurse named Andrew. He's some kind of dope dealer. I got some sedation and pain medicine during the procedure but was still in pain after so he got me 2 vicodin. One of those usually has me slurring my words but I was still a little gorked from the procedure and didn't think about the dose. Vicodin being an oral medication doesn't work right away. Andrew's solution was some intravenous dilaudid as a chaser. That makes a grand total of fentanyl, versed, vicodin and dilaudid in about 90 minutes. Holy cow, it took me three days to detox.
I had a cocktail party the following night. If Happy Hal and Granny Franny hadn't been there to help we'd have had to turn people away at the door. After tanking on fluids all day I rallied about an hour after the party started. It was a fun little soiree.
Ok, so what's the good news? The internal stents aren't working. I still gotta saddle up with my bags. My tumor marker took a jump the last round of chemo. I'm not eating well and am losing weight. Worsening disease was on everyone's mind. The good news is a CT scan last week shows disease that is stable to slightly improved. There's actually not a whole lot of bad stuff in there. You can all stop coveting my road bike now. The chemo is working and we're going to stick with the current treatment plan.
I'm so relieved. It's taken almost a week to really feel it. It feels good, real good.
I'll sign off now. In the next installment I think I shall right about my hero.
Dr. Bif
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Shaking the tree, or peeing on it.
I am home from the hospital but not after they tried to feed me pureed roast beef. It comes molded into a little shape reminiscent of something someone thinks looks like a slice from a roast. Ew.
I am home again. Thank god. As I mentioned I was just on my way out of the big house when I was informed that my kidneys were in distress. After having been released from the IV pole I was not only hooked up to it again but chained to the bed with a foley in my bladder. It is possible to get up and walk around with that thing, you just have to carry around a large bag of pee. Combined with the IV pole it becomes an elaborate interpretive dance to get into the bathroom without yanking on something vital. The foley was done in an attempt to decompress my kidneys, assuming the bladder wasn't doing it's job of relieving them.
My urologist is a good guy. He came in after the holiday, saw that I was scheduled for yet another ultrasound before any procedure was decided on. He said, "that's stupid. I'm going to go shake the tree." I was then second in line for nephrostomy tubes. Yay, Dr. Gentile. Tres gentil.
So now I have more tubes and bags. I'll digress just a moment here to say that I have mixed feelings sharing all of this with everyone. Do I want to show up at a family function and have relatives checking to see if my bags show under my clothes? What happened to suffering in silence? When I was an intern I had a senior resident who I did a floor rotation with. We were good friends and the nature of the job required us to be in each other's presence almost constantly. She had a miscarriage on our rotation and I was none the wiser. I'm not clueless either. I can read people's moods pretty well (In fact I'd make a good spy but I can't overhear conversations when there's background noise. Jason Bourne's job is safe.). I admire that kind of stoicism but I possess it not. Everyone knows when I have a hangnail.
So I let it hang out there. What the hell, I am who I am. It gets tricky with patients though who find out I've been ill. It hasn't gotten intrusive because I just stick cheerfully to the facts, answer only what is asked and move on. It would be very much trickier if I were someone's primary care physician or oncologist. Sometimes it's good to be just an allergist.
Now that I've shared that little nugget with y'all I'll just say that I am now the recipient of more bags than a recycling center. I was told by the PA before the procedure that they would be totally discreet under my clothing. If I ever find out where she parks her car I'm going to empty one of them onto her front seat and see how discreet she finds it. The tubing is long enough to hang to my feet and each bag holds 600 cc's of pee. "Hey, that's almost 2 beers each side," said Alain. Medical things need to be translated into terms Canadians can understand: beer. On the plus side, I can now pee standing up. Can't wait for a tailgate party.
I was totally outdone by my sister in the black humor category with the following email. Kate, if you don't like me posting this, git yer own blog. Frankly I'm proud of ya, Katie:
Beth,
I was wondering if you would like me to make a call to the Glad bag people
and look into a sponsorship?
You could be on Top Chef! "After making the alligator soup over the
radiator in my room, I will safely empty my bags using the NEW osti combo
bag set. This challenge was a really tough one for me. I have never worked
with alligator before and I wish someone had told me to kill the thing
before I tried making the soup. I just don't want to be sent home, what
will my colleagues think. How will I keep my sponsorship with Glad and
their fabulous Combo Osti bag set?"
Well done, care to top it Ted?
Dr. Bif
I am home again. Thank god. As I mentioned I was just on my way out of the big house when I was informed that my kidneys were in distress. After having been released from the IV pole I was not only hooked up to it again but chained to the bed with a foley in my bladder. It is possible to get up and walk around with that thing, you just have to carry around a large bag of pee. Combined with the IV pole it becomes an elaborate interpretive dance to get into the bathroom without yanking on something vital. The foley was done in an attempt to decompress my kidneys, assuming the bladder wasn't doing it's job of relieving them.
My urologist is a good guy. He came in after the holiday, saw that I was scheduled for yet another ultrasound before any procedure was decided on. He said, "that's stupid. I'm going to go shake the tree." I was then second in line for nephrostomy tubes. Yay, Dr. Gentile. Tres gentil.
So now I have more tubes and bags. I'll digress just a moment here to say that I have mixed feelings sharing all of this with everyone. Do I want to show up at a family function and have relatives checking to see if my bags show under my clothes? What happened to suffering in silence? When I was an intern I had a senior resident who I did a floor rotation with. We were good friends and the nature of the job required us to be in each other's presence almost constantly. She had a miscarriage on our rotation and I was none the wiser. I'm not clueless either. I can read people's moods pretty well (In fact I'd make a good spy but I can't overhear conversations when there's background noise. Jason Bourne's job is safe.). I admire that kind of stoicism but I possess it not. Everyone knows when I have a hangnail.
So I let it hang out there. What the hell, I am who I am. It gets tricky with patients though who find out I've been ill. It hasn't gotten intrusive because I just stick cheerfully to the facts, answer only what is asked and move on. It would be very much trickier if I were someone's primary care physician or oncologist. Sometimes it's good to be just an allergist.
Now that I've shared that little nugget with y'all I'll just say that I am now the recipient of more bags than a recycling center. I was told by the PA before the procedure that they would be totally discreet under my clothing. If I ever find out where she parks her car I'm going to empty one of them onto her front seat and see how discreet she finds it. The tubing is long enough to hang to my feet and each bag holds 600 cc's of pee. "Hey, that's almost 2 beers each side," said Alain. Medical things need to be translated into terms Canadians can understand: beer. On the plus side, I can now pee standing up. Can't wait for a tailgate party.
I was totally outdone by my sister in the black humor category with the following email. Kate, if you don't like me posting this, git yer own blog. Frankly I'm proud of ya, Katie:
Beth,
I was wondering if you would like me to make a call to the Glad bag people
and look into a sponsorship?
You could be on Top Chef! "After making the alligator soup over the
radiator in my room, I will safely empty my bags using the NEW osti combo
bag set. This challenge was a really tough one for me. I have never worked
with alligator before and I wish someone had told me to kill the thing
before I tried making the soup. I just don't want to be sent home, what
will my colleagues think. How will I keep my sponsorship with Glad and
their fabulous Combo Osti bag set?"
Well done, care to top it Ted?
Dr. Bif
Monday, September 7, 2009
Back in the big house
Some of you complained that I hadn't posted on the blog in a while. Well, now look what happened? I'm back in the hospital. Hey if I have to slug it out with hospital food I might as well make you all feel guilty as well. Not to be outdone by my sister's little weekend getaway at Mass General I decided to work up a bowel obstruction. things aren't the same inside after a bunch of surgeries and the bowel can get kinked on scar tissue. Luckily this one worked it's way out with just some rest and pain medicine.
I was all set to bounce out of here when a very nice resident told me they couldn't let me go because my kidney function was off. So I've had a scan and some fluid and some potassium. Now I'm waiting for the kidney specialists to weigh in on this. I might be up for a procedure soon. Try not to get sick on a holiday weekend. Hospitals, like the rest of the world grind to a halt. It shouldn't be that way but it is. I wonder how much extra money our insurance companies pay for extended hospital stays just because a holiday rolls around?
With any luck they'll get this show on the road soon. In the meantime I'm going to get a bunch of knitting done and watch the NCIS marathon. It is probably not a good idea to watch a medical crime show while in the hospital. I don't care, it fuels my black sense of humor.
On a more practical note, i think alain is set with the boys as far as food goes. he just went shopping. they are back from vacation in Montreal. Sam is enjoying his jar of Nutella they bought up there. He was introduced to it in France. He'll be glad to know they have it at Wegman's.
beth
I was all set to bounce out of here when a very nice resident told me they couldn't let me go because my kidney function was off. So I've had a scan and some fluid and some potassium. Now I'm waiting for the kidney specialists to weigh in on this. I might be up for a procedure soon. Try not to get sick on a holiday weekend. Hospitals, like the rest of the world grind to a halt. It shouldn't be that way but it is. I wonder how much extra money our insurance companies pay for extended hospital stays just because a holiday rolls around?
With any luck they'll get this show on the road soon. In the meantime I'm going to get a bunch of knitting done and watch the NCIS marathon. It is probably not a good idea to watch a medical crime show while in the hospital. I don't care, it fuels my black sense of humor.
On a more practical note, i think alain is set with the boys as far as food goes. he just went shopping. they are back from vacation in Montreal. Sam is enjoying his jar of Nutella they bought up there. He was introduced to it in France. He'll be glad to know they have it at Wegman's.
beth
Friday, July 31, 2009
It's not easy being green.
I was sure there would be comments from the last post. You are all obviously out enjoying the summer. If you live on the east coast that means drowning. If you live on the west, frying to a crisp. In the spring I was thrashing around in my yard almost every day. I am determined to have a garden that looks like a grownup planted it. You know, for someone who imagines herself having some kind of artistic talent, garden design is not my forte. I really love that casual English garden style where it looks like a bunch of foxglove, daisies and roses just wandered in. My attempt at casual elegance however, looks like a school’s flower bed. Ah, that must be the area they let the kindergartners plant.
To make matters worse, the weeds have crept in and gotten away from me. They didn’t have far to go. The lawn is mostly weeds. I will not take the blame for this. The yard was a big mess when we moved in 6 years ago. All Alain and I have been willing to do is mow the suckers down occasionally. When we first moved in my neighbor across the street tried to be helpful. She said, “You know, if you were thinking of spraying some weed killer down, now is the time of year to do it.” I told her, “If it’s green it stays.” Hey, you’ve got to admit that huge patch of clover looks pretty darn good during a drought. I don’t know for sure but I think all those weeds have something to do with the annual crop of really weird mushrooms that sprout up all over the yard. One of my neighbors practices his golf swing on his. Me, I get out the mushroom guide books to see which ones I can eat. I am strange in many ways. Wouldn’t you know? Not a single one edible. And what peeps out from under a pine tree just three feet over the property line of my neighbor’s yard but a tiny patch of chanterelles. It ain’t fair.
Now, even I, the earthy-crunchy, tree hugging environmentalist, have contemplated the purchase of Round Up. But no, I can’t do it. Lest I offend you Monsanto types I would just like to point out that it would take poisoning all of nearby Lake Ontario to kill all the weeds in this yard. I have to remind myself of what I tell other people as they gaze at all the many leafy green things that have completely outcompeted the grass. What some people call weeds, I call biodiversity.
I did cheat though. When we were away in France my neighbor sent her lawn service guy over to mow our lawn. Yes, Ann is a saint in many ways. One of the best things you can ever do is make friends with a neighbor who is a neat freak. One day she came over with her power washer and cleaned my deck. The workmen renovating my kitchen are still talking about it; they never saw anyone do that kind of thing voluntarily, just to be nice.
The lawn looked nice. Damned nice. Alain was away this week at a conference enjoying balmy, sweltering Vancouver. Did you know the public beaches there are clothing optional? Did you know Alain hates the lawn services because of all the noise they make on the weekends? I cheated. I had Ann call the guy back. Don’t tell.
To make matters worse, the weeds have crept in and gotten away from me. They didn’t have far to go. The lawn is mostly weeds. I will not take the blame for this. The yard was a big mess when we moved in 6 years ago. All Alain and I have been willing to do is mow the suckers down occasionally. When we first moved in my neighbor across the street tried to be helpful. She said, “You know, if you were thinking of spraying some weed killer down, now is the time of year to do it.” I told her, “If it’s green it stays.” Hey, you’ve got to admit that huge patch of clover looks pretty darn good during a drought. I don’t know for sure but I think all those weeds have something to do with the annual crop of really weird mushrooms that sprout up all over the yard. One of my neighbors practices his golf swing on his. Me, I get out the mushroom guide books to see which ones I can eat. I am strange in many ways. Wouldn’t you know? Not a single one edible. And what peeps out from under a pine tree just three feet over the property line of my neighbor’s yard but a tiny patch of chanterelles. It ain’t fair.
Now, even I, the earthy-crunchy, tree hugging environmentalist, have contemplated the purchase of Round Up. But no, I can’t do it. Lest I offend you Monsanto types I would just like to point out that it would take poisoning all of nearby Lake Ontario to kill all the weeds in this yard. I have to remind myself of what I tell other people as they gaze at all the many leafy green things that have completely outcompeted the grass. What some people call weeds, I call biodiversity.
I did cheat though. When we were away in France my neighbor sent her lawn service guy over to mow our lawn. Yes, Ann is a saint in many ways. One of the best things you can ever do is make friends with a neighbor who is a neat freak. One day she came over with her power washer and cleaned my deck. The workmen renovating my kitchen are still talking about it; they never saw anyone do that kind of thing voluntarily, just to be nice.
The lawn looked nice. Damned nice. Alain was away this week at a conference enjoying balmy, sweltering Vancouver. Did you know the public beaches there are clothing optional? Did you know Alain hates the lawn services because of all the noise they make on the weekends? I cheated. I had Ann call the guy back. Don’t tell.
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Are you busy or guilty?
Someone I knew a long time ago sent me a friend request on facebook. I sent a reply and he answered three months later, apologizing for the delay and stating that he had been busy until now. At first I dismissed the comment because one hears it all the time. Then I got to thinking. What makes that guy so damned busy he can't answer an email? Last I checked he wasn't running the Fed or the free world.
Then I began thinking about how infrequently I apologize for being too busy to do something. I apologize for things I haven't done all the time. I apologize constantly for the state of my house whenever anyone comes in. I am always doing things at the last minute (I should be cleaning the house right now) but it never occurred to me to apologize because I was too busy. What is the difference between someone who assumes the world will understand that too much has been placed on their shoulders to accomplish even the most mundane of tasks such as answering an email versus the person who beats themselves up regularly for not being organized enough?
So I tried it. I just said it. My apology for not doing something (which I don't recall now) was simply to say I had been too busy. To my amazement the person to whom I said this just accepted it. There was no look of condescension at my incompetence. In fact the look was one of pity that I could be so busy.
Toss my cell phone/calendar/email/organizer in the trash, I am free at last.
Dr. Bif
Then I began thinking about how infrequently I apologize for being too busy to do something. I apologize for things I haven't done all the time. I apologize constantly for the state of my house whenever anyone comes in. I am always doing things at the last minute (I should be cleaning the house right now) but it never occurred to me to apologize because I was too busy. What is the difference between someone who assumes the world will understand that too much has been placed on their shoulders to accomplish even the most mundane of tasks such as answering an email versus the person who beats themselves up regularly for not being organized enough?
So I tried it. I just said it. My apology for not doing something (which I don't recall now) was simply to say I had been too busy. To my amazement the person to whom I said this just accepted it. There was no look of condescension at my incompetence. In fact the look was one of pity that I could be so busy.
Toss my cell phone/calendar/email/organizer in the trash, I am free at last.
Dr. Bif
Monday, June 29, 2009
I am the Highlander, there can be only one!
I'm at Highland Hospital again and I'm not the only one here so not a very good title.
I should be out soon. I had a bowel obstruction on Friday. Previous surgeries and radiation made things sticky in there. I have a tube down my nose and into my stomach. It is an absolute joy. On the pain medication I was having freaky dreams, getting chased by monsters. As I started to feel better I started having dreams about glasses of water. The best was a glass of cold orange juice. I opened up a fridge and there were several gallon jugs all open.
Today I drank about 4 little cups of apple juice. I'd have to say I prefer that to orange juice lest some kind hearted soul send a bunch of cans to my house. I'm hoping to get out in a day or so. the NG tube in my nose is clamped and we are seeing how well I fly on my own. I'm supposed to leave for France on Friday. We're going to France, we're going to France, everyone now, we're going to france...
a bientot.
Dr. Le Bif
I should be out soon. I had a bowel obstruction on Friday. Previous surgeries and radiation made things sticky in there. I have a tube down my nose and into my stomach. It is an absolute joy. On the pain medication I was having freaky dreams, getting chased by monsters. As I started to feel better I started having dreams about glasses of water. The best was a glass of cold orange juice. I opened up a fridge and there were several gallon jugs all open.
Today I drank about 4 little cups of apple juice. I'd have to say I prefer that to orange juice lest some kind hearted soul send a bunch of cans to my house. I'm hoping to get out in a day or so. the NG tube in my nose is clamped and we are seeing how well I fly on my own. I'm supposed to leave for France on Friday. We're going to France, we're going to France, everyone now, we're going to france...
a bientot.
Dr. Le Bif
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