I'll start off the day with a shot of "Vitamin P," the notorious drug that Michael Jackson mainlined on a daily basis. Unlike the King of Pop, my propofol will be administered by a licensed anesthesioligist in a clinical setting. I'll fall to sleep right before my doctor jabs my rear with a thick needle to extract bone marrow for my annual bone marrow biopsy. And then I'll wake up 15 minutes later, feeling as thought I slept for ten straight hours. I can't wait!
Then I'll spend the next two hours wandering the campus for a mammogram and a bone density scan. (My choice of the word "wandering" is because of my nonexistant sense of direction.) I know it's probably a "business" decision for CoH to encourage patients to come to them for these services, but it's also convenient for me and a comfort to have all of my medical records in one place.
And, finally, I'll meet with Dr. Forman to discuss the results of the PT scan I had last week. The scan will confirm if I'm still in remission or if I've relapsed. Strangely enough, I'm not feeling the usual funny little "is she or isn't she" butterflies. I think it's because my non-patient life has been creating so many flutters that I can no longer tell the difference. I'll also find out if my pesky eosinophils (aka EOS) are behaving themselves.
It will be a long day, but, truth be told, I don't mind being a "lifelong patient," as long as that means that I'll have a nice, long life.
By popular demand: The little man in my life. I love to make him laugh.
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