Endoscopy, No. 2

Friday, January 13, 2012: Warning! You'll get much more information than you need from this post, but it's my chance to vent a bit and show that this journey is never easy...but it is, inevitably, worth it.

Ever since my first endoscopy on January 3 with Dr. Adler, I've been trying to make an appointment for another one. Not that I really wanted it, but Dr. Adler wanted to do a second one to check my ampulla with a "side scope", which can only be found at the Huntsman Cancer Center. Since I'm on blood thinners (still - ugh), I sort of really absolutely most definitely NEEDED to know as soon as possible, so I could be off the meds for a time before the scope. I had the first scope that Tuesday, but by Friday, we were still no closer to getting the scheduling people pinned down for the next procedure. As Janessa and I sat at the UofU Hospital on Friday, waiting for my scan disc (which, BTW, I STILL don't have in my possession - I gave up), I talked to Karen at Dr. Grossmann's office (forgive me if I'm repeating myself from my last posts) who had talked to Dr. Adler's office who had told her that the scheduling person was out sick and expected to be back in the office Monday, January 9. Okay. I went back on the Coumadin, figuring nothing would happen over the weekend anyway and I might as well get some meds in me for a few days. Monday came. I called Dr. Adler's office (who has the most "grandmotherly-voiced" receptionist ever - I felt like I was talking to Lillie or Mary Olive!). After "Grandma" transferred me, I was directed to someone's voicemail. I left my message, explaining the situation, and asked them to call me as soon as possible. Tuesday came. I called Dr. Adler's office again. Same Grandma-receptionist answers. Same transfer to voicemail. I leave another message, this time putting on a sort of angry face and using a sort of angry voice (you know me) to say I need to know, one way or the other, as soon as possible. My mom calls to see if I've heard anything. She thinks I should just wait for the doctors to sort it all out. Lindsey calls me to see if I've heard anything. I ask her if I should just give up. She thinks I should keep bugging them. Wednesday comes. As I start the morning, I decide not to take the Coumadin. I take Ness to school and come home and warm up a frozen pancake from last week. It's about 8:30 and I am not happy that I have to make another phone call, no matter how nice Grandma-receptionist is. I call and leave the same voicemail...and then forget about it. All through the morning, I sit at my desk and work, not stopping (like I usually do) to grab a snack or fill up a water bottle to drink from as I work. I plow ahead. I decide I'll stop and eat some lunch just before noon, and then the phone rings. It's a weird name on caller ID, but I would recognize that phone number anywhere! It's Dr. Adler's scheduler. She proceeds to tell me that something is on the books for me for January 18, but she's not sure what it is. I shake my head because I DO know what that is - it's the re-schedule of the appointment with Dr. Grossmann to go over the results of the second endoscopy that I'm trying to get scheduled!! I tell her that in my best exasperated voice. Then, she finally gets it. "Let me give you the number to Huntsman," she says. "Call and see when you can come in for the scope." Really? REALLY? Oh boy. I call Huntsman. They are SOOO nice. They tell me exactly who I need to call at the UofU, where Dr. Adler will do the procedure, and even try to transfer me to the right person. After a couple of tries, I am finally talking to Becca, who is an angel and says..."Can you come in today?" I can't believe it. Of course, I tell her yes. I'm not messing up the karma! She schedules me for 3:30, which means I should be there for the prep work at 3:00. Can I do it? I'll make sure I do it. She asks when I last ate anything solid, and for the first time all week, I can say (though I don't go into details with her) that I did not eat any cashews or Ghirardelli chocolates or M&Ms or crackers or anything else after breakfast - I've had one drink of water and no meds! And even though I've (honestly) only been off Coumadin for one day, I will be forced to lie, just so the procedure can move forward. If I bleed, I bleed, that's all there is to it. I call Dean at work, I call Lindsey (who is sick at home with strep throat), and arrangements are made for Dean to take me to the appointment and for Janessa to be brought home after school.

Even though I just had this procedure a week ago and I know that it's a cinch, I'm still nervous as we head to the hospital. Afternoon traffic is heavy and I'm impatient with the slow drivers. Dean practically has to run to keep up with me as we enter the building about 3:15. I shouldn't have worried, though - Dr. Adler is about an hour or so behind schedule. With my temporary insurance ID, I'm whisked through admittance and Dean and I take the elevator to the basement. How appropriate! "Nate Burkus" is on TV, but I can't sit still or concentrate enough to watch his good ideas. Dean always naps and is worn out after work, and I tell him that maybe while he's waiting, he should find a vending machine and buy a Mountain Dew or Coke to help him stay awake. I don't want some nurse coming out to tell him the results and find him snoring up a storm in the waiting room. The nurse who starts asking me the billions of questions I've been asked by every doctor/hospital visit since March says her name is Jan. A lightbulb goes off in my head! Just after Christmas, when we were originally trying to get my FIRST endoscopy scheduled before the end of the year, Robby volunteered to call a family friend in the SLC area who worked with a Gastriotologist (sp??) to see if she could pull any strings for us. Her name was Jan and I start wondering, could it be? We go through all the questions (I lie about the Coumadin) and as she's washing up to start my IV, I say, "I need to ask you kind of a weird question - do you know Cindy Stephenson?" She turns off the water faucet, looks at me with this strange expression, and says, "Well, YES, I do!" I tell her why I know Cindy and that I'm the one Robby was bugging her about getting an appointment for. "You're the one!" she says. We laugh. The mood in the room changes from formal politeness to warm friendliness. "Now that we're almost family..." she says over and over again, as we chat about all that we now have in common and she tries to find a good vein for the IV. I am freezing (it's a constant now, especially when I spend a lot of time in my cold, little office) and she grabs a warm blanket to try to "warm up" my tiny veins. It's no use. No water, no fluids since morning, plus cold hands and arms - no way those guys are going to plump up and show themselves! She finally decides to go in my left hand, just below the ring finger. "Now that we're family", she uses a baby-sized needle, like they use on children, and it goes in okay. She's concerned that when the meds start going through the IV, it will hurt worse being in my hand, but I tell her it's okay. We talk and laugh, and then she leaves me with a warm blanket and the remote to the TV (so I can watch "What Not To Wear") and goes to check on how much longer before the doctor is ready.

It's amazing how having a friend in a procedure like this puts me at ease. I'm just a little nervous, but mostly I want it done and over with. Finally, Jan comes to take me to the procedure room. There is weird "hillbilly" music blaring on a sound system, and another sweet nurse says, "Well, the doctor's music is on." Jan reaches over and turns it down to barely nothing, bless her. I hear voices from another room and see Dr. Adler (remember the "ER" TV show guy?) and a whole swarm of other people, some in lab coats, all with ID lanyards on. "Looks like you're going to have an audience," the other nurse says. Oh boy. Look at me and all my insides.

Finally, Dr. Adler and his gaggle of interns come into the room. Dr. Adler speaks to me briefly, but the others basically ignore me. To them, I am just a body on a bed, a glimpse into the inner workings of a human being. Jan tells me to turn over on my side, as she is going to start the meds in my IV. Immediately after turning to the side, I feel a terrible stinging in my hand that extends all the way up to my elbow. The blood pressure cuff is squeezing the juices out of my upper arm and something is not right with the IV. This is completely opposite of my first endoscopy, where I felt nothing and simply closed my eyes and went to sleep. This time, I'm wide awake and in pain and I'm wondering when (or if) this is going to start working so I can fall asleep. Jan notices my discomfort and asks if I'm in pain. I nod vigorously (the mouth guard is already in, so I can't talk). She is concerned and apologetic and starts moving the line around where I have rolled over onto it. In a few seconds, I feel the stinging, aching pain subside. I sigh and feel the cool oxygen in my nostrils and the warm, sleepy feeling in my head. "There it goes," I whisper to Jan through the mouth guard, and she says, "Oh, good. You're doing great." That's all I remember before waking up in recovery.

Funny story about recovery: Dean was in the waiting room, wondering why things were taking so long this time. Finally, a nurse (not Jan) came out and said, "Your wife is finished with her procedure and is in recovery. I'll take you back to her." Dean followed her down the hall and into the curtained-off recovery area. Suddenly, he heard someone say, "I don't know this person," and when he looked at the woman on the bed, it wasn't me! She was looking at him and he was looking at her and they were both trying to figure out what was going on. Thankfully, the nurse quickly realized her mistake and led Dean away from the stranger to where I was. She pointed to me and asked him, "Does she look more familiar?" and kind of laughed. Dean said it upset him a bit. Poor thing! (but it does make a great story!)

The best news was when my newfound friend, Jan, brought the pictures and results back to me and showed me the happy words of "no lesions...", "no abnormalities...", "no evidence of metastatic cancer" in the findings. Everything was normal. What a huge relief. It was the answer I was waiting for all these frustrating days, dealing with scheduling and unanswered phone calls and a bunch of baloney.

So, now I go back to Dr. Grossmann at Huntsman and hear his final pronouncement on those crazy "hot spots" that ended up being nothing. Happily, those little melanoma guys aren't multiplying (did I tell you that it takes 1000 melanoma cells to make a cluster big enough to be seen on a scan? and it takes about three months of normal growth for a cluster to grow 1000 cells...). I see Dr. G on January 18 - I had my scans on December 19. One whole month of tiptoeing through this cancer mine field, hoping and praying nothing blows up in my face. So glad it's almost over for another three months.