Easy Peasy
Aug. 19th, 2008 01:18 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
llcoolvadSo today was the initial consultation with both surgeons. The thoracic surgeon's office sent me a nice packet of information (the aforementioned "Your tumor and you!" stuff), including all the prelim paperwork I needed to fill out. They warned that the initial visit could take as much as three hours. The waiting room was JAMMED. I mean, 50 people or more. I commented to the receptionist and she brightly smiled and said "Oh, that's because we have TWO doctors here!" Just two? For all these people?? Seriously? OMG!
So, despite that, my name gets called pretty quickly and I meet with a nurse practitioner. He takes my history and asks me questions, answers a few for me, then sends me back out to the waiting area. I'd lost my seat, so I wait outside the waiting room in the hallway. There are at least 15 people out there, too. Then I get called in again and someone else takes my vitals. Then I get sent back out to the waiting hallway. Then I get called in again and I have to walk the length of the hospital and up and down some stairs and back with an oxygen sensor on my finger, because they need to make sure that I don't fall over when I move, I guess. Then back to the waiting hallway.
Finally I get called the last time after waiting a full additional hour, and I get to re-meet the surgeon. He shows me my tests, all the images. The CATs, the MRI, and the nuclear scan. The tumors are huge! In fact, they're pushing my esophagus over a little, fighting it for room. I say they, but it seems that they are connected in the middle, kind of like a barbell. A barbell of goop. Everyone is amazed that I don't have any symptoms, shortness of breath, difficulty swallowing, anything. But I don't. Dr. Thoracic says that he isn't my main guy, he's only going to be there if they have to crack my chest. He tells me the recovery is longer and more painful if they have to do so, but not terrible. He deflects some of my thyroid questions to Dr. General Surgeon but tells me it's most likely that they'll take out some of the thyroid. We discuss scheduling, and I tell him as long as they don't want to do it Thursday (my birthday) I'm good with whatever. He brings me to his scheduler, but she tells me to see Dr. General first, and that they'll contact her after. I find it sort of fascinating at the number of people who work in these offices. And they all specialize so much. Two receptionists, two schedulers!
Ok, so I'm off to see Dr. General. I've already been in the hospital for 3 hours. I finally find the office and it's huge, but creepily empty. After the slamming busy atmosphere over in Thoracic, this is weird. They should switch offices, seriously, because their waiting room is GIANT compared to Thoracic's. Anyway, they give me paperwork to fill out, and I'm kind of annoyed because, after all, Dr. Thoracic's office gave me all that stuff ahead of time and I didn't have to hurry or skip stuff because I didn't know it (addresses, med dosages). OK, fine, whatever, they get the crappy handwriting. I hear them take some late chick before on time me because I am still filling out their paperwork. Sigh.
One half hour after my 4:30 appointment was to begin, I am ushered into a small exam room. A perky assistant comes in and tells me she's going to take my BP. I just had it taken one hour ago in Thoracic, do I REALLY need to do it again? Oh, you can look it up in the shared computer system, really? thanks (sarcasm fully in play). She takes my pulse by looking at her watch and holding my wrist. I'm thinking that Dr. General's office is low rent and low tech and stupid and I hate everyone. She leaves, I sit for another half hour. It's five thirty five, and in comes a perky intern. She wants to go over my information. She asked me when I noticed my symptoms. I wonder to myself why the FUCK they ask for all this shit when no one reads it. I patiently explain that I have no symptoms, that my masses were found completely accidentally, etc. She asks about my shortness of breath. I lose it a little, and explain, through gritted teeth, that I HAVE no shortness of breath. I had it in the hospital because I HAD PNEUMONIA! Oy. She takes it well, I apologize a little and say that I have explained myself at least 20 times between the hospital stay and every little worker bee I've met. She laughs and tells me she understands and that she will explain it to the doctor but that he might ask me more questions. I say I understand. I lie.
The doctor finally comes in. He's very personable and attentive and explains everything and only asks good questions. My fears are totally allayed! He explains that because of their size and location my tumors really need to come out (although they are slow growing, so timing isn't vital). He'll take the right side of my thyroid out as well as the tumors, but he'll leave the left side. That should mean that I won't have to be on meds for the rest of my life. I asked where I got it. He said, yeah, that's really the question. With thyroids sometimes they just form. Typically in people who live in geographic locations where there's little iodine, but also sometimes if the thyroid thinks it's not doing its job it pumps out goiters to try to create more thyroid tissue which will pump out more hormone, but of course goiters don't actually do anything other than sit there. Dumb thyroid. And of course another option is that it could be cancer. He says that the tumors are almost certainly benign, so I ask what if they aren't? Would they have to take the other half of my thyroid? Yes. So he recommends that we do a needle biopsy beforehand to see. He explains that biopsies are not always conclusive, but that it would save further surgery later if it came up cancerous. Ok. Sounds good to me.
He then explains the surgery. Slice open my throat, take out the right side of the thyroid, drag out the masses, pack up the cavity with some stuff that dissolves over time (to lessen the possibility of bleeding), sew me up. He says that because I'm young and in reasonably good health it should go well, but of course he had to doom and gloom it a little. All the bad possibilities with any surgery, plus 1% chance that they'll get a bleed, 1% chance that they'll damage the nerves and vocal cords. I might be hoarse for the rest of my life! Or just temporarily. Or not at all. Good thing I'm not going on American Idol any time soon. Recovery, then I go home THE SAME DAY! Barring complications, natch.
He reiterates that Dr. Thoracic only gets involved if the neck slice isn't adequate for tumor removal. That he'll then crack open my ribs, drag out the tumors, then wire me back up. I gotta say, that's the part that freaks me out. Boo, Dr. Thoracic!
Anyway, because the needle biopsy is booked solid for months, they are going to schedule the surgery around its availability. Currently I am tentatively scheduled for preop meeting 11/3, biopsy 11/13, surgery 11/13 (obviously something in there will change). The scheduler chick at General's office told me that she's hoping she can push the biopsy earlier and that she'll call me with updates. If there's no way, the surgery will probably be moved to the 20th.
The end!
So, despite that, my name gets called pretty quickly and I meet with a nurse practitioner. He takes my history and asks me questions, answers a few for me, then sends me back out to the waiting area. I'd lost my seat, so I wait outside the waiting room in the hallway. There are at least 15 people out there, too. Then I get called in again and someone else takes my vitals. Then I get sent back out to the waiting hallway. Then I get called in again and I have to walk the length of the hospital and up and down some stairs and back with an oxygen sensor on my finger, because they need to make sure that I don't fall over when I move, I guess. Then back to the waiting hallway.
Finally I get called the last time after waiting a full additional hour, and I get to re-meet the surgeon. He shows me my tests, all the images. The CATs, the MRI, and the nuclear scan. The tumors are huge! In fact, they're pushing my esophagus over a little, fighting it for room. I say they, but it seems that they are connected in the middle, kind of like a barbell. A barbell of goop. Everyone is amazed that I don't have any symptoms, shortness of breath, difficulty swallowing, anything. But I don't. Dr. Thoracic says that he isn't my main guy, he's only going to be there if they have to crack my chest. He tells me the recovery is longer and more painful if they have to do so, but not terrible. He deflects some of my thyroid questions to Dr. General Surgeon but tells me it's most likely that they'll take out some of the thyroid. We discuss scheduling, and I tell him as long as they don't want to do it Thursday (my birthday) I'm good with whatever. He brings me to his scheduler, but she tells me to see Dr. General first, and that they'll contact her after. I find it sort of fascinating at the number of people who work in these offices. And they all specialize so much. Two receptionists, two schedulers!
Ok, so I'm off to see Dr. General. I've already been in the hospital for 3 hours. I finally find the office and it's huge, but creepily empty. After the slamming busy atmosphere over in Thoracic, this is weird. They should switch offices, seriously, because their waiting room is GIANT compared to Thoracic's. Anyway, they give me paperwork to fill out, and I'm kind of annoyed because, after all, Dr. Thoracic's office gave me all that stuff ahead of time and I didn't have to hurry or skip stuff because I didn't know it (addresses, med dosages). OK, fine, whatever, they get the crappy handwriting. I hear them take some late chick before on time me because I am still filling out their paperwork. Sigh.
One half hour after my 4:30 appointment was to begin, I am ushered into a small exam room. A perky assistant comes in and tells me she's going to take my BP. I just had it taken one hour ago in Thoracic, do I REALLY need to do it again? Oh, you can look it up in the shared computer system, really? thanks (sarcasm fully in play). She takes my pulse by looking at her watch and holding my wrist. I'm thinking that Dr. General's office is low rent and low tech and stupid and I hate everyone. She leaves, I sit for another half hour. It's five thirty five, and in comes a perky intern. She wants to go over my information. She asked me when I noticed my symptoms. I wonder to myself why the FUCK they ask for all this shit when no one reads it. I patiently explain that I have no symptoms, that my masses were found completely accidentally, etc. She asks about my shortness of breath. I lose it a little, and explain, through gritted teeth, that I HAVE no shortness of breath. I had it in the hospital because I HAD PNEUMONIA! Oy. She takes it well, I apologize a little and say that I have explained myself at least 20 times between the hospital stay and every little worker bee I've met. She laughs and tells me she understands and that she will explain it to the doctor but that he might ask me more questions. I say I understand. I lie.
The doctor finally comes in. He's very personable and attentive and explains everything and only asks good questions. My fears are totally allayed! He explains that because of their size and location my tumors really need to come out (although they are slow growing, so timing isn't vital). He'll take the right side of my thyroid out as well as the tumors, but he'll leave the left side. That should mean that I won't have to be on meds for the rest of my life. I asked where I got it. He said, yeah, that's really the question. With thyroids sometimes they just form. Typically in people who live in geographic locations where there's little iodine, but also sometimes if the thyroid thinks it's not doing its job it pumps out goiters to try to create more thyroid tissue which will pump out more hormone, but of course goiters don't actually do anything other than sit there. Dumb thyroid. And of course another option is that it could be cancer. He says that the tumors are almost certainly benign, so I ask what if they aren't? Would they have to take the other half of my thyroid? Yes. So he recommends that we do a needle biopsy beforehand to see. He explains that biopsies are not always conclusive, but that it would save further surgery later if it came up cancerous. Ok. Sounds good to me.
He then explains the surgery. Slice open my throat, take out the right side of the thyroid, drag out the masses, pack up the cavity with some stuff that dissolves over time (to lessen the possibility of bleeding), sew me up. He says that because I'm young and in reasonably good health it should go well, but of course he had to doom and gloom it a little. All the bad possibilities with any surgery, plus 1% chance that they'll get a bleed, 1% chance that they'll damage the nerves and vocal cords. I might be hoarse for the rest of my life! Or just temporarily. Or not at all. Good thing I'm not going on American Idol any time soon. Recovery, then I go home THE SAME DAY! Barring complications, natch.
He reiterates that Dr. Thoracic only gets involved if the neck slice isn't adequate for tumor removal. That he'll then crack open my ribs, drag out the tumors, then wire me back up. I gotta say, that's the part that freaks me out. Boo, Dr. Thoracic!
Anyway, because the needle biopsy is booked solid for months, they are going to schedule the surgery around its availability. Currently I am tentatively scheduled for preop meeting 11/3, biopsy 11/13, surgery 11/13 (obviously something in there will change). The scheduler chick at General's office told me that she's hoping she can push the biopsy earlier and that she'll call me with updates. If there's no way, the surgery will probably be moved to the 20th.
The end!
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Date: 2008-08-19 11:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-08-20 04:47 am (UTC)