8 Days a Week

Well, I just got out of the hospital after eight long days.   Again, it wasn't the doctors who saved me, it was the great NURSING STAFF.  

The good news is, I have a good, strong heart.  The bad news is, I have suspicious nodules in my lungs, consistent with spread of the cancer.  

I have a new Oncologist.  I hope he is going to be more aggressive.  I meet him in the next week.  I also have a Pulmonary man, a Cardiologist, and the same old Urologist.

Dr. Sherman decided he couldn't march through Georgia, nor burn me, so he is still trying to drown me.  A gallon of water per day.  A GALLON.  Try drinking that.

It was eight days of torture.  Every test known to man, and a few they made up.  I had one incidence where the RT overdosed me on broncho-dilators, and I couldn't breath.

Then I had the grandmother of all panic attacks.   I couldn't breathe.  It felt like a strap around my chest, pulled tight.  The nurse was trying her best to reposition me, talk me down, whatever, when in pops cheerful Dr. Sherman.  He says, "How are you doing today? Are you drinking a gallon of water a day?....."  the nurse is saying, "She's having difficulty breathing!"  I'm trying to say, "I can't breathe!".. Without breaking a sweat, OR taking out his stethoscope, he says, "Oh, I'll come back tomorrow and fuss about the water."  Who WAS that man?

After deciding that yes, the patient IS having a panic attack, the nurse decides to get an order for a sedative.  So he, yes "he", gives me a 1 mg tablet of Ativan.  That's all it took to knock me out for the next 24 hours.  To the point, Macho Man said he didn't think he would ever get to see me awake  again.  It was crazy.  I was talking out of my head, to people who weren't there.  I don't want anymore Ativan, ever.

Well, at least it is under control for now.  I feel good.  The pain is gone.  I can get dressed, with help.  I can drink REAL COFFEE.  I have great friends and family.

I am blessed.