May 18, 2020 (yesterday)

With all the negativity in the air, even here at Ricochet (with some inspiring exceptions), I’m trying to write something that is humorous and light on my upcoming cystoscopy tomorrow morning. Somehow, I can’t quite get there.

However! For those of you who saw my last Dr. Quinn post, written nearly three weeks ago, I’m here to tell you that I’m rarin’ to get to the doctor and learn what the heck is going on. Well, sort of.

Briefly, on Easter Sunday I went to the emergency room with bleeding. They couldn’t identify the problem. Then a gynecologist suggested I had a mass on my uterus, hinting at cancer and surgery; the gynecological oncologist, however, reassured me a few days later that the problem was not my uterus, the protuberance was attached to my urethra and we still didn’t know what was going on. And tomorrow we will try again to come up with a diagnosis.

Fortunately, even though the doctor’s office is in the hospital, they allow patients to bring one guest. Yes, I’m a big girl and quite capable, but I’m so glad that my hubby will be there with me. Since I have been a pathetic drama queen up until now, wondering about my mysterious ailments, assuming the absolute worst, I hope I learn that I’m suffering from something quite ordinary and easily treated.

Meanwhile, since the appointment is at 8:30 a.m. and we have to allow for travel time, we wouldn’t possibly have time for breakfast before leaving home, so we are indulging in Dunkin’ Donuts. (Yes, I still use the second word in their name because it’s the only part that matters.) I will get one chocolate/chocolate donut—I always imagine getting two, but the darn things are so rich that I can’t get through a second one. And Jerry will get two glazed donuts. He can get through two of those. We will make him some tea before we leave the house and I will get DD coffee, which I will probably mostly drink after the appointment. If you know what a cystoscopy is, you’ll understand why.

So I’m trying to keep busy today, make-believe that I’m not really in pain, and try not to think about tomorrow. . .

* * * *

May 19, 2020

I’m back home now, and started the day off perfectly as planned—a chocolate/chocolate donut. I was so surprised at how smoothly things went in this testing process, even though we had to follow certain screening steps: a text to us in our car (asking for registering information, which I submitted); then instructions to enter the hospital (where the urologist office is upstairs); taking our temperatures and then moving into the hospital lobby where we found two chairs where we were permitted to sit together; and then another text directing us to the office.

The entire process was not only flawless, but every person I encountered this morning was so kind and caring. The office staff person was not only cordial but made a point of making eye contact and spoke in a comforting voice. The assisting nurse was friendly. The Physician Assistant was warm and had done his homework on my previous treatments (which are conveniently on the Advent Health portal). The good news is that the procedure was fairly effortless, and the doctor assured me that my bladder looked fine. The bad news is that he’s still speculating about the protrusion on my urethra. He said he was going to order a CT with contrast, and suggested that I might want to go over to Imaging (on the other side of the second floor) and see if they could work me in; if they did, he would call me before the end of the day!

So we walked over to Imaging, and here was this delightful man named Angus at the Imaging reception desk, and he had this charming Irish accent (I swear). Our senses of humor engaged, he took pity on me, went back to talk to the staff, and returned to say they would take me by 11:30 a.m. (It was then 9:15 a.m.) He cautioned me it could be sooner, so not to go far. We did have to go back to registration, but it all went smoothly, and every person was so darn friendly and kind! And then we went back up to Imaging.

It was sooner! At 10 a.m., they took me back. And this nurse was a delight. She called me “Love.” And at another time I may have been annoyed, but I actually did feel loved. I was in and out within a half-hour, and we were on our way.

So now I wait. I’m exhausted just from the relief of knowing that cancer is highly unlikely, but surgery may be needed. I’ll know more later.

But I can rest in the truth that a day that could have been traumatic and upsetting went without a hitch, amidst professional and caring people.

I’ll post as soon as I know more. Thanks for all the caring and reassuring comments to date.