I don't feel very funny. I've spent the last few days exhausted and with achy joints; I feel like an old person who should be grumbling about Social Security checks and whippersnappers. My hips and knees have me constantly teary-eyed b/c they hurt so badly, and Mom feels bad b/c there is nothing she can do to help my aches. Hot bathes are a fond and distant memory b/c I'm not supposed to overly soak my biopsy scar and I can't get my PICC line dressing wet. #crabby
Additionally, I'm currently laid up at Mom's with nausea. I tried to go out for a little field trip this afternoon just for change of scenery and had to come home b/c I was about to start hurling all over Whole Foods. It sucks when I do all the things I'm supposed to do medicine-wise and food-wise and still I'm miserable. I know this isn't a permanent condition, but it's frustrating to go through it every cycle.
However, life isn't all gloom and doom. My blood counts are good and my PET scan is next week. Also, Dad and I have been getting to spend a lot of time together, and while it sucks it over doctors' appointments, the time is nice. On a side note, we went to Community Q in Decatur and it was AMAZING. Trust me, when a cancer patient who doesn't think anything tastes good finds great food, it is outstanding.
Anyway, before this lunch, I had my weekly appointment at Emory. Up until now, my hospital experience has been pretty bereft of sexy drama and doctors. I have not looked like a medical show heroine and (while they are brilliant and talented) my doctors are not hot men. Or men of any kind.
Because Emory is a teaching hospital, I constantly have students and residents getting involved with my treatment and the odds that everyone and their brother are going to be reading my test results. And I'm fine with this. My cancer is manifesting itself in an unusual way, and I get the doctors being excited that they finally have an out-of-textbook example of things to show their students. At this particular appointment, my oncologist asks if I mind letting one of her residents listen to my heart to see if he can hear the fluid around it.
Imagine my pleasant surprise when the very cute resident comes into my exam room. He's not my cup of tea as far as personal taste and what I would go for in a date, but I can appreciate a cute, preppy doctor. I still have a pulse after all. Anyway, he does his thing with the stethoscope and does a breast exam to see where the tumor is located.
Le sigh. A cute doctor has his hand down my shirt and all I want to do is giggle b/c the context is so ridiculous with my father in the room (and he is trying to look anywhere but where the doctor and I are) and the doctor being so flustered b/c 1. he's fairly young and 2. he has his hand down a girl's shirt when her father is sitting behind him. Definitely one of those "Sooooooooo.... how 'bout them Braves?" moments.