I knew it was going to be true, that feeling of anguish and distrust.
I hate the medical field in the US and all that goes with it, from the insurance vultures to the crackpot useless MD's that have their "take the money and run" attitudes to pay for that freakin' convertible Bentley in the parking lot. It's so rare to find anyone in the medical field worth their weight yet their opinion.
For that is what I have discovered more that anything else while searching for "my cancer", that there are a gazillion opinions with no 2 doctors ready to stand together to make a consensus decision.
Really, not even 2 out of the almost 50 doctors, fellows, specialists, and not to mention every Tom, Dick, and Milldrid who's had personal experience with cancer because their dear Aunt Fay, bless her heart, got "the cancer" and it was a horrible ordeal for all of us, I know just what you're going through!!!!
Give me a fucking break.
Not 2 of them can agree on what's totally wrong with me. Granted, the human body is complicated, but it's not that complicated. This Squamous Cell Carcinoma that is in my lymph grands is a very specific type of cell. Found only in the skin and the throat from what I have been told and researched. Cool, that sort of narrows things down a bit. That means somewhere between my eyes and my stomach lies the culprit. Hiding somewhere in the moist folds of my esophagus, tickling my tonsil, crouched low under my unsuspecting tongue lies the killer waiting to grow to unprecedented size and scale that after it takes my body, Gotham City will be it's next target. AAARRRGGGGG!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Ok, so much for the melodrama. I just saw the Batman movie last week and it's still having a terrible affect on my introspective outlook on life.
Anyway, the surgical speciallist then sends me to go see an Oncolgist (Cancer Guy #1). He can't see me for 3 days. Fine. It only June 4th at this point. We only discovered cancerous cells the week before. It's not like I have only 3 days to live. Waitings cool. Gives me time to get on line and do a little research into squamous cell carcinoma.
Finally the day arrives and I go to see Cancer Guy #1. I figure he's going to look into my month and tada, "there's the evil doer, "be gone" he'll shout, and wave some magical Oncologist amulet and we have a cure. Ah, no. This is only a consultation (meaning $500, check please)
You have to go see an ENT (that's Ear, Nose, and Throat guy- and an anacronism for Entertainment) and you need to go see your dentist to have teeth pulled out! Say WHAT!
The dentist has to approve that your teeth are in good shape incase we have to do surgery or Radiation on the primary which we haven't found yet. Pulling teeth is just a precaution. Fuck Me.
I make the dentist appointment and they were very good to get me in the next day, June 5. Dentist rummages around in my mouth, tech cleans, given the "AOK" and don't need to pull teeth, your teeth are in great shape (just now very straight, but we can fix that after you get through your cancer stuff)
Guess that's when I'm lying in the coffin everyone that comes to the wake can say "my, he has the nicest straightest teeth for a dead guy"
Task 1 Oncologist Consultation, check!
Task 2 over, Dentist, check!
Next day, I get to go to the ENT. They "squeezed" me into his schedule although when I got to his office, I was the only one in the waiting room. Hmm.
Didn't know what to expect but I figure if anybodies going to find cancer in my throat, a freakin Ear, Nose, and Throat guy would be the ticket. Today, my wife decides to come with me so she can be part of the "discovery". Excellent, I got a witness!
So Dr. ENT's nurse comes in and sets up a bunch a gear for a laryngoscopy. Part of that is this long very skinny black thing that looks more like a sex toy than a medical devise. She explains that the sex toy is actually the scope the doctor will be using to look down into my throat. I ask, " how does the doctor keep me from gagging as it goes down my throat"? Silly me, "he sticks this thing into one of my nostrils in my nose and goes down that way" nurse Ratchet explains. "But don't worry, we'll numb your sinuses and throat before he does that". And at that point this women picks up what looks like a tire pressure fill valve you see at the local Exxon, hands me a Kleenex, and states " just breath in normally, this won't bother you at all" and proceeds to fill 'er up to about 65 psi up my nose with pressurized powdered Novocaine! I thought she nearly blew my head off.
My wife, pillar of salt and usually quite stoic in demeanour, is practically on the floor laughing hysterically. After about 30 seconds, she gathers herself together and says sweetly, "Honey, you got smoke coming out your ears!" Thanks for your loving support, dear!
So another 15minutes passes by and Dr. ENT finally comes in. Guess the 6 year old in the room next door with the emergency marble shoved up his nose took precedent over my cancer. He comes in and grabs the sex tool, introduces himself, and proceeds to stick the sex toy in my nose and down into my throat. The words, "this may be a touch uncomfortable", even after having my mind altered with Novocaine, has new meaning at this point. After about 10 minutes of this dude rummaging around my nasal cavities, tonsils, and esophagus, he pulls out the sex toy and quieting sits down for a discussion.
This guy says he really didn't see anything in my throat but if he had, he would just refer me any way to
the Cancer Guys at Wake Forest Baptist Cancer Center cause"I really don't do surgeries or like to work with cancer patients" WTF, the bastard new I was there to try to find my primary cancer spot and he"doesn't work" with cancer patients. He said his goodbyes, Cha ching for a $50 copay and a bill to the insurance company for another $250. Wow, fucked like a cheap whore and I paid to get corn holed. Another shining example of my hatred for certain medical "professionals". Go to med school, take your bars and residency, start up a comfy little practice fixing little Emma's lactose intolerance, all is good in Dr ENT's little world. Fuck U. Now second week in June and I still have no diagnosis of what is the central cause of my cancer and my little lymph nodes are slightly increasing in size.
Next post will come out sooner with the continuing saga of doctors and my discovery. Sorry the last two posts were so far in coming, but as you have read to this point, the "discovery" phase of my particular ailment is/was a great mystery and many weeks passed before a plan came into affect.
I hate the medical field in the US and all that goes with it, from the insurance vultures to the crackpot useless MD's that have their "take the money and run" attitudes to pay for that freakin' convertible Bentley in the parking lot. It's so rare to find anyone in the medical field worth their weight yet their opinion.
For that is what I have discovered more that anything else while searching for "my cancer", that there are a gazillion opinions with no 2 doctors ready to stand together to make a consensus decision.
Really, not even 2 out of the almost 50 doctors, fellows, specialists, and not to mention every Tom, Dick, and Milldrid who's had personal experience with cancer because their dear Aunt Fay, bless her heart, got "the cancer" and it was a horrible ordeal for all of us, I know just what you're going through!!!!
Give me a fucking break.
Not 2 of them can agree on what's totally wrong with me. Granted, the human body is complicated, but it's not that complicated. This Squamous Cell Carcinoma that is in my lymph grands is a very specific type of cell. Found only in the skin and the throat from what I have been told and researched. Cool, that sort of narrows things down a bit. That means somewhere between my eyes and my stomach lies the culprit. Hiding somewhere in the moist folds of my esophagus, tickling my tonsil, crouched low under my unsuspecting tongue lies the killer waiting to grow to unprecedented size and scale that after it takes my body, Gotham City will be it's next target. AAARRRGGGGG!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Ok, so much for the melodrama. I just saw the Batman movie last week and it's still having a terrible affect on my introspective outlook on life.
Anyway, the surgical speciallist then sends me to go see an Oncolgist (Cancer Guy #1). He can't see me for 3 days. Fine. It only June 4th at this point. We only discovered cancerous cells the week before. It's not like I have only 3 days to live. Waitings cool. Gives me time to get on line and do a little research into squamous cell carcinoma.
Finally the day arrives and I go to see Cancer Guy #1. I figure he's going to look into my month and tada, "there's the evil doer, "be gone" he'll shout, and wave some magical Oncologist amulet and we have a cure. Ah, no. This is only a consultation (meaning $500, check please)
You have to go see an ENT (that's Ear, Nose, and Throat guy- and an anacronism for Entertainment) and you need to go see your dentist to have teeth pulled out! Say WHAT!
The dentist has to approve that your teeth are in good shape incase we have to do surgery or Radiation on the primary which we haven't found yet. Pulling teeth is just a precaution. Fuck Me.
I make the dentist appointment and they were very good to get me in the next day, June 5. Dentist rummages around in my mouth, tech cleans, given the "AOK" and don't need to pull teeth, your teeth are in great shape (just now very straight, but we can fix that after you get through your cancer stuff)
Guess that's when I'm lying in the coffin everyone that comes to the wake can say "my, he has the nicest straightest teeth for a dead guy"
Task 1 Oncologist Consultation, check!
Task 2 over, Dentist, check!
Next day, I get to go to the ENT. They "squeezed" me into his schedule although when I got to his office, I was the only one in the waiting room. Hmm.
Didn't know what to expect but I figure if anybodies going to find cancer in my throat, a freakin Ear, Nose, and Throat guy would be the ticket. Today, my wife decides to come with me so she can be part of the "discovery". Excellent, I got a witness!
So Dr. ENT's nurse comes in and sets up a bunch a gear for a laryngoscopy. Part of that is this long very skinny black thing that looks more like a sex toy than a medical devise. She explains that the sex toy is actually the scope the doctor will be using to look down into my throat. I ask, " how does the doctor keep me from gagging as it goes down my throat"? Silly me, "he sticks this thing into one of my nostrils in my nose and goes down that way" nurse Ratchet explains. "But don't worry, we'll numb your sinuses and throat before he does that". And at that point this women picks up what looks like a tire pressure fill valve you see at the local Exxon, hands me a Kleenex, and states " just breath in normally, this won't bother you at all" and proceeds to fill 'er up to about 65 psi up my nose with pressurized powdered Novocaine! I thought she nearly blew my head off.
My wife, pillar of salt and usually quite stoic in demeanour, is practically on the floor laughing hysterically. After about 30 seconds, she gathers herself together and says sweetly, "Honey, you got smoke coming out your ears!" Thanks for your loving support, dear!
So another 15minutes passes by and Dr. ENT finally comes in. Guess the 6 year old in the room next door with the emergency marble shoved up his nose took precedent over my cancer. He comes in and grabs the sex tool, introduces himself, and proceeds to stick the sex toy in my nose and down into my throat. The words, "this may be a touch uncomfortable", even after having my mind altered with Novocaine, has new meaning at this point. After about 10 minutes of this dude rummaging around my nasal cavities, tonsils, and esophagus, he pulls out the sex toy and quieting sits down for a discussion.
This guy says he really didn't see anything in my throat but if he had, he would just refer me any way to
the Cancer Guys at Wake Forest Baptist Cancer Center cause"I really don't do surgeries or like to work with cancer patients" WTF, the bastard new I was there to try to find my primary cancer spot and he"doesn't work" with cancer patients. He said his goodbyes, Cha ching for a $50 copay and a bill to the insurance company for another $250. Wow, fucked like a cheap whore and I paid to get corn holed. Another shining example of my hatred for certain medical "professionals". Go to med school, take your bars and residency, start up a comfy little practice fixing little Emma's lactose intolerance, all is good in Dr ENT's little world. Fuck U. Now second week in June and I still have no diagnosis of what is the central cause of my cancer and my little lymph nodes are slightly increasing in size.
Next post will come out sooner with the continuing saga of doctors and my discovery. Sorry the last two posts were so far in coming, but as you have read to this point, the "discovery" phase of my particular ailment is/was a great mystery and many weeks passed before a plan came into affect.
I did not know whether to laugh or cry, so I did both (sorry, in that order with the tears a direct result of laughing too hard).
ReplyDeleteI am in complete agreement about the medical establishment. It's hard to believe that these guys even know what the Hippocratic oath is.
The fact the you are maintaining your witty and humorous sense of humor leaves me happy and confident that you will successfully weed the saviors from the quacks and get through this by the time the snow falls this year.
I am not sure how you can be funny and so heart reanching at the same time Jay. You are elequint one way or the other as someone who has not experienced cancer reading your blog give me a tiny view of what you are feeling and going through. All of my Love and Positive energy is headed your way. It should be there around the time you most need it next. Remember there are a lot of people out her that Love and care about you as you go through this.
ReplyDeleteJay, Your wife tattled and now the whole world knows, even me.
ReplyDeleteSo sorry, dude, but I have to be honest, I always thought you were a little bit full of it, but I thought it was shit you were full of. You're going to need to find a different hole to push this shit out of.
Just so you know you're not the only one suffering, I forward you this story from the Saturday Vision from January 26, 2008.
"A woman set fire to her former husband's penis as he sat naked in his flat. He was watching television and drinking vodka. the couple had divorced three years before but continued to share a small flat. 'I was burning like a torch,' the wounded man told the newspaper. 'I don't know what I did to deserve this.'"
Hang tough, man.
Jay, Thinking about you. Hang tough, one of those Bentley riding jackasses is going to have the answer! Probably the one with the nicest Bentley. Scope out the parking lot before you pick a specialist.
ReplyDeleteGive me a call or drop me a note. Sending positive vibes.
Nick