Diagnosis +21

3 weeks since I was diagnosed, and in some ways today was the worst day yet.  Part of that was just being taken by surprise.  I thought I was going in for an office consultation with the radiation oncologist.  After visiting the oncologist yesterday, I was expecting a pretty straightforward visit, just setting up therapy for next week.

We sat in the waiting room for about an hour before someone came to take me back to the exam room.  Then the nurse came in and surprise!  It was a woman named Jennifer who used to be married to one of my high school buddies.  Small world.  Turns out she lives in the same neighborhood and is considering sending her kids to the same school that mine go to.

Of course, that made it all the more fun to provide detailed answers to the various medical questions she had to ask...

About 1 hour later, the doctor came in.  And while he was very pleasant, the visit took a turn for the worst when he announced that there would be another exam.  Another exam!  Why it is necessary for every doctor in Knoxville to personally inspect me?  After all, they have a folder with the colonoscopy images, PET scan, MRI, EUS (ultrasound) and the notes from the last five doctors that have stuck something up my butt.  Seriously?

Well, at least, and to my great relief, this doctor is a "smooth operator."  So far he's the Billy Dee Williams of my medical providers.

I thought the worst was over, then they started talking about giving me a CT scan so that they could place the markers for the radiation.  And make a custom mold to hold me in an awkward position.  And insert "contrast" before the CT scan.

X marks the Spot.  Well, one of three spots anyway.

One complete Dignitectomy later, I gathered together the shattered fragments of my self esteem, and cradling my mangled soul, exited the CT room for the reassuring company of my wife.

Now, fortunately, some of that is not going to happen again.  But some of it is.  Every day.  For five weeks.  The suck factor is pretty high.   Oh well - time to man up.  If this is the cross I have to carry, then so be it.  I can say that I enjoyed the puzzled look on the face of the doctor as the words of the Pater Noster echoed from inside the CT tube.

Anyway, now I've got these neat little target marks stuck on my body.  As if you (dear reader) have not been repulsed enough, I've included a picture.  The final insult is the sloppiness of the target marks - which are just drawn on there with a sharpy.  Anyone who knows how obsessive compulsive I am will recognize how it offends me to have asymmetric doodles stuck on my body.  I mean, if you're gonna stick a marker on me, can't you make it look something like this: