Once again, we've come a long way in a short time.
The surgery done, the healing has been exemplary. Now we wait, hopeful today's the day the doctor will remove the plastic tube drain coming out of Laura's side.
At the nurse's instruction Laura has replaced her stylish shirt with the stiff white paper vest we've come to associate with the office exams. It has large seams that stand straight up about two inches like fins along her shoulders, but we've long since exhausted our comments about the outfit. This is about the fourth time she's put one on.
She adjusts the open front, and frowns. "I talked with Janet, who said her chemo was usually once a week. Each week it's effects lasted longer and by the time the last one rolled around, her doctor decided they'd just better not do it."
One of her friends at the school has had to go through it, and Laura's not relishing the impact to her teaching schedule.
My thoughts turn to the time when chemo will take its rightful place alongside the likes of blood letting as a regretable sidetrack in medical annals.
As the doctor examines the surgical site, Laura recounts how she nearly fainted when she had a similar drain pulled out before. "It hasn't really been all that uncomfortable, you know, it's just more of a worry than anything -- having to be careful with it."
The doctor has her lay back on the table, and a few seconds later, the drain's out, much to Laura's relief.
A flood of dialogue ensues. Cellular marker results, dependencies, more uncertainties that will have to wait for pathologists' reports.
Next step: the oncologist appointment in about a week.
No comments:
Post a Comment