70 - What's Up, Buttercup?

Some of you have been asking: What’s up, buttercup?

(Or, you know, words to that effect.)

It is true. I have not been posting recently. I have been busy. Busy traveling. Busy seeing friends. Busy making more plans. And thrilled I am able to keep them.

I still go to the Chemo Spa but just once a month, not twice. I get immunotherapy but no chemo. I am frequently in and out within an hour, rather than five or six. We are not talkin’ CURE here. But it is an easier, more pleasant regimen, and it appears to be holding me steady.

Or so I hope. In front of me are the results of my most recent scan – a CT of the chest, abdomen & pelvis. I am reading it with care, looking up word after word, trying to make sense of the med-speak.

It is a hard slog, and I cannot help but recall an incident in Hospital 2. I was sitting cross-legged on the bed, laptop in front of me, pen in hand, taking notes of what was on the screen. I was looking up – I believe – the “C” in ERCP.

Apparently, I had the wrong “C” because a young resident, earnest and well-meaning, X’d out what I had scribbled, wrote down a different unpronounceable, multi-syllabic word and then, glancing first at the laptop and then at me, warned: Do not go down THAT rabbit hole.   

Oh, the infamous rabbit hole!

I nodded meekly. Of course, he was right. I was stressed; my blood pressure had risen. I had no medical background; I did not know the lingo. The chances of me finding info of value were slim. But scary, probably inaccurate scenarios? Likely.

Of course, he was wrong. The Free Dictionary’s definition of “to go down the rabbit hole” is “to enter into a situation…that is particularly strange, problematic, difficult, complex, or chaotic….”

Um, Doc, don’t you think I am ALREADY IN IT?? 

So, I gathered my blue hospital gown around me – though voluminous it was, as previously noted, not to be trusted – raised my head with my too big red frame glasses and (surprisingly!) coiffed and ruly hair and give him THE LOOK.

THE LOOK that says: My body. My life. My prerogative.

I softened it with a smile, though. He was, after all, earnest and well-intentioned. And young. Plenty of time to discover things can be both right…and wrong.

I am thinking about this as I check my CT results. I start with “inspissated endobronchial debris”. Although certain I do not want bronchial debris of any kind, I am so taken with the word inspissated - meaning thickened or congealed – that rather than being alarmed, I am actually rather pleased. I move on.

Next is “pneumobilia” which – I can now report - is air within the biliary tree of the liver. Per an abstract from the National Institute of Health, this “suggests an abnormal communication between the biliary tract and the intestines.”

Look at our country! Look at the world! Abnormal communication IS the norm! If my intestines and biliary tree do not want to talk nice to each other, who can really blame ‘em? I move on.

The abstract cites one possible cause of pneumobilia as “an incompetent sphincter of Oddi.” Granted, this is the first I am aware of having a sphincter of Oddi but – and I feel this strongly - I am sure it is quite, quite competent. 

I am about to move on again when the title of the abstract catches my eye. Why I missed it earlier is a mystery because it is typed in bright, bold lettering:

Pneumobilia: benign or life-threatening

Benign? Or life-GULP-threatening? Suddenly I feel a little less jokey, A little less confident. A little more worried.

The Big C rabbit hole is a dark, complicated place. It would be foolish not to research, question, probe. Who better to advocate for me…than me?

But that earnest, well-intentioned resident in Hospital 2 had a point. Sometimes all that searching, prodding, digging does not arm you but only leaves you more afraid. Sometimes it is better to turn off the computer, stop with the notes, wait for the doctor, and just enjoy the plans you have made.

So, let’s try this post again.

What’s up, buttercup?

Feeling fine, Clementine! Feeling fine!