Doctors Retire?

Today was my 6-month checkup and I was in the worst possible place before went. My daughter has been sick with a lung infection for almost 2 weeks and the doctor is pulling straws to try to resolve it. For me this has meant a lot of worry, juggling work and a sick child and a healthy child (the little one) and very little sleep.

But even more than this, another mom from my oldest daughter's Las Madres playgroup passed away because of cancer last Sunday. This is the second mom we've buried, and two others of us are in cancer remission. This seems so wrong. At it's height the group was somewhere between 30 and 40 moms, that means at least 10% of the group has gotten cancer. There is no rhyme or reason for cancer in young women today, but it feels like it is getting worse, and it scares me every time I have to go in for that check-up.

I always dread the check-up; then I see my doctor. He talks through any of my fears or worries, he asks me tons of questions about how I'm doing with the Sarcoid, and then he tells me that he is my least important doctor right now. He is more concerned about the Sarcoid than the cancer. So then I breathe and am reassured that I'm still ok.

But today, after he said all of that, he also told me that he is retiring. He's decided that it's time to stop. Technically he retired a few months ago, but hasn't been able to give up his patients yet. He said that is the hardest part, he cares about all of us and doesn't want to stop being there for us.

Now, my oncologist has a reputation. He is well-known as both the guru of cancer and as the most curmudgeonly doctor in the area. Those who did not choose him as their oncologist focus on that aspect of his personality. Those of us who do choose him tend to also because of that aspect of his personality. He tells the truth with no clinical mumbo-jumbo and with no dressing. If he is concerned, he says so, if there is nothing to worry about, he says so. As we talked he asked me what people say about him and I told him the truth, which he knew already. I also told him I'm nervous to have a new doctor, but trust him to choose the right people to take his practice. I also told him to ride his motorcycle more, but safely.

In a way I feel like the child who thought teachers lived at school. It never occured to me that someone I depend on so much would retire. I wish him well, but worry that my next check-up won't be quite as reassuring at the end.

Trying 31 Again

The past several weeks have been a roller coaster as side effects and withdrawal symptoms have been competing for my attention. The exiting Prednisone has left behind annoying rashes and excruciating headaches that last for weeks on end. The incoming TNF drug has started muscle cramping and pain in my back. And the mix of both plus the sarcoid moving around leaves me wincing from little jabs in my chest and exhausted all day long.

But that is all beside the point, it is just the fallout of the chronic disease. No, the real issue of the past few weeks has been my birthday! I have never been a fan of my birthday. I don't like being fussed over, and I'm not big on parties for my birthday, it all just makes me uncomfortable. And the past three years have done nothing to help. Three years ago I had a biopsy on my birthday that turned out to be breast cancer (Lesson: NEVER have a biopsy on your birthday, no matter how routine it is supposed to be). Two years ago, shortly after my birthday, I told my oncologist I had a naggy rib; turned out to be Sarcoidosis. Last year I let then start me on oral chemo drugs just before my birthday and spent the week after my birthday panicked about the hair falling out in the shower.

So one might see how my birthday makes me a bit cautious. Therefore, when my sweet husband asked me what I wanted, I told him I'd like him to make me 31. Why 31? Well, 29 is just cliche, and besides, no one knows anything at 29. No, 31 is a perfect year. For me, it was before we had kids, but we both had good jobs, we'd already bought our first house and we still had enough money to travel. It was the year we were on the cusp of being real grown-ups, we just hadn't yet gotten all of the baggage that goes with that. More importantly, I still had good skin, my hair didn't require coloring, and cancer was something that happened to old people.

I'm not ready to fit into my current age. I feel like I've lost the past three years, so until I figure out a way to get that time back, I'm going to pick random ages every year and try them out. However, I'll be selective in those choices. As I said, 29 is cliche, and I'd never pick anything between 12 and 17, no one with any sense wants to relive their teen years! Perhaps when I'm 60 I'll be ready to be 44, or not.