Personal: CT & IVs

Not dying, far from it.

Yesterday I went to memorial, pensively and very worried I drank the hospital kool-aid while waiting for my CT scan. Luckily I had my friend Jill with me. She asked at the last minute if I wanted company, and secretly I wanted to scream “Yes, yes, yes!” but I have really a hard time displaying my excitement, especially when it comes to the hospitals. I didn’t want to feel like she was taking a grumpy puppy to the vet. I asked her several times if that’s what she really wanted to do on a monday morning. I mean, there are so many other cool things to do on a monday...Right?


“It’s going to be boring…and there are sick people... you’ll just sit there... I’ll be cranky... needles make me cranky… it’s a hospital not a jump house… I’ll tell horrible jokes… like real cranky… really?” She smiled and said something along the lines of “Yes Brady, I’m sure I want to go with you.” I beamed, but not bright enough to see hopefully. After multitudes of treatment visits its going to feel nice being one of those people with someone in the waiting room. I debated on taking a picture, but I don’t know if that would have been real appropriate or even genuinely decent thing to do. Hospital selfies? I mean I do have cancer, so who could get mad? I could see the tagline on the photo, “So this is Jill and I in the Cancer ward. Ignore the mummy in the wheelchair. All smiles!”


Since July my mind has been overloaded with statements concerning mortality rates, life altering side-effects and self deprecating thoughts. I've seen a slew of medical staff that range from the gentleness of a warm cloth upon my forehead to those with the subtly of smashing a cinder block through a car-window. After I finished my chemical beverage I walked to the CT room and lied down on a matted table awaiting robotic directions. The nurse took ten minutes to find a vein in my right arm -- nothing. She then searched the left. Nothing. She looked confused and perplexed. Scratching her brow she pressed a buzzer,


"Stacy, could you come in here for a moment."


Stacy, an older women with a buttered brunet bob of a hair cut waddled in.
"Can't find a vein can we?" She chuckled, "We'll it's a good thing I know a thing or two about sticken'!"
I didn't really know what to do, so I chuckled with her. "Yeah, it was always hard for me back in the college days too... Ha ha..." My joke trailed like a kid who hadn’t been invited to the party. She then began to slap the top of my wrist. She was probably killing two birds with one stone: If that joke is true Brady you deserve more than just a slap on the wrist and where is that vein?!
"Oh boy, well this will have to do."
"Are you ready?"
"This will hurt."


She plunged the inch and half long needle into my wrist. I twinged and grunted.
"I know... I know it hurts but it's only for a second."
She dug licking her lips. Such a concentrated face for one who is currently inflicting pain.
Then, with a smile, "Ah! There we are."
She plugged a tube into my wrist and connected it to bag full of liquid pus.
"Now lie still and just follow the instructions... You may feel warm and queasy but it dissipates quickly."
I nodded my head and rested it upon the paper towel covered pillow.
The machine buzzed and lit up like an engine on an age spaceship.
*beep, wirrrrrrr, beep*


"Please, take a deep breath."


A voice from deep space began to vocalize its authority like an old speak n' spell.


"Please, hold your breath."


*clank*


"Your cooperation is necessary."


*clank*


"Thank you for your cooperation. You may breathe normally."


I slide beneath a radiated hula hoop like a pizza.


"Please, stay still. Thank you."


*wirrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr*


"Please, hold your breath. Thank you for your cooperation."


"Thank you. Your scan is now complete."


I got off the table feeling warm and fuzzy. The nurses assured me that the feeling would go away shortly. And I hoped it did because the warm feelings downstairs made it feel like I had simultaneously pissed and shit my self. If I was drunk I might have asked for a reward, but no, sober as a bell and double checking every inch of pants for a sign of wetness. None, okay we’re good
I walked back to the waiting room to find Jill waiting for me. If comfort had a face, she created it. I was one of those people again, not alone.
"You ready?"
"Yeah... Let's go home."
The rest of the day I couldn't think about anything else than that the robot. It had all the answers. In its data banks it contained the prevalence of how my body was handling the tumor. It was a long day.

So, this morning I woke up knowing that at some point I'd have to see my oncologist. It was like knowing that an ex girlfriend was waiting for me at school, probably by my locker with a slew of ugly information. My gut told me pack an extra pair of pants in the car. I sat in the waiting room; I was not one of those people today, I was alone. I was called by the sweet ladies over the intercom to the lab so they could draw my blood. No sign of him. They stabbed me, drew my bloody and gave me a unisex band aid.


Lame.


I went back to the waiting room and sat there twiddling my thumbs. Wheelchairs zoomed in and out with crippled bodies hacking up god knows what. The overheard conversations were just like the ones I myself had my first day; people holding back their bruised faces and old ladies drawing bible study quotes from their slacked jaws. Overwhelming. Still no sign of him.


The intercom buzzed.


"Brady Effler to the nurse's assistant area please."


This is it.


I walked back to their desk and there he was standing in large white cloak holding his clip board.


"Brady, good to see you. The nurses are going to take care of you, but we need to talk. I'll find you soon, okay." Every thing was said with a smile. But they always smile. “We need to talk?” People still say that these days?! No one should ever say that. He wandered off down the hallway, cloak billowing flashing his striped socks every other step. Was this how Harry potter felt when Dumbledore said some cryptic shit -- frustratedly "special"?


The nurses came up to me and I did what they asked of me. I felt like a bear in the circus. Hop up on this, get down from there, stick this in your mouth, clip this on your finger, wave to the crowd, don’t scowell, etc...


After about 15 minutes of performing in the center ring, they moved me from the crowd and into a holding pen, aka just another waiting room, but smaller and built for face to face conversations.


As I was waiting I heard my oncologist outside talking to another voice, and everything was muffled.

"... tell him ..I'll be...


shortly ... discuss ...


...don't.... results... take


treatments are... preliminaries..."

The door opened and a blonde lady stepped through the door with fuchsia Nikes' indiscreetly grabbing my attention. Just her shoes. That's all I know.


"Hi! I'm Amy. Dr. Daniels assistant. How are you today."
With really no time to process what I didn't hear, I had no other option besides.
"Peachy, yeah. I'm just ... Peachy."


She asked me the typical questions:


How's your pain? - fine


Pelvis bothering you? - not as much


On a scale of one to ten? - one


Are sleeping alright? - sort of


Pooping well? - yes


Sexual activity? - no


Any rashes? - no


Numbness in your hands? - no


Numbness in your feet? - no


Taking all your pills? - yes


Any loss or change in sexual drive? - no


Nausea? - yes


Any case of vomiting? - no


Any blood in your urine or fecal matter? - no


Sunlight bothering you? - no


In general is everything okay? Sure







There was a knock on the door.
Finally.
Thank God.
Dr. Daniels peaked his head through the door and smiled.
"You all set?"
I wanted to scream, "just fucking tell me!" but I just nodded and said, “Yep…”
Amy nodded her head and gave him a binder. He waved it away, instead he walked up to me and reached out his hand. "We'll congratulations Mr. Effler. You tumor is dying."


If he had gripped my hand any harder or smiled any wider I would have lost it. My eyes were like cages, trying to keep a flood of mice like tears from running down my face. This was the first set of good news since... Well ever since they told me I was lucky that I even found out about the cancer. I felt lucky and I felt I undefeated.


Amy was smiling too, but her shoes combined with the higher archaical placement of sexual and bathroom questions made me want to give the least amount of attention. Ever.
"Your tumor is no longer looks like a sphere. Rather is collapsing in on itself and becoming more of a cone shape. So all in all. It's dying and this is exactly what we wanted."
He was like the hot girl where you felt like superman after 5 second conversation, “Yeah, it’s 10:15”... . I just wanted him to keep talking. Come on baby don’t stop. Keep talking. Any time he seemed to veer off track I made it point to come right back. I'm not letting this one get away.
“Your blood levels look excellent, your kidneys and liver are functioning extraordinarily well and you look very healthy.”


May I cry now? No, still more questions. I gotta keep this babe talking before she goes off and finds the quarterback, aka that one patient with the glittery crown that makes all the nurses laugh. What a show off. I have cancer too you know… I’m just not old and cute. The rest of the conversation was about my meds, my pelvis and how stem cell surgery will be the catalyst.


“Well that’s all I have to say Mr. Effler.” He shook my hand and smiled. “I hope you have a good day.”


As I left the hospital, I may have skipped, or at least to best of my ability. You know, fractured pelvis. I knew I had to tell everyone… It’s now a reality to me. I can fight this. I have a future. Somewhere out there is the one, somewhere out there is the house, somewhere out there is the job, somewhere out there is life.


And if I stay focused, I’ll make everyone remember me, forever.