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12
Feb
2012

Go To the Doctor Already



The doctor saw me the next morning. His eyes left my face as he listened to the details of the last weeks. With each statement, his head would sink a little lower. When I stopped, his head was down past his chest. “Okay,” he said firmly,” You need a CT scan with contrast dye. Are you allergic to shellfish?”

The next day, I was getting a scan. I was going alone because the doctor had felt that it was likely that I had a small cerebral head bleed due to the accident with the greenhouse.You don’t do anything for a small cerebral head bleed except rest quietly at home.  As I walked to the car, my next door neighbor stopped me and asked me where I was going. “Let me take you,” she said. “Oh no,” I answered. This was a very busy woman. She was the most in-demand event planner in the state. “No, let me take you.” It was 6:45 in the morning.

When we arrived at the lab, the place was deserted. We had to ring to check in. I was hustled back because I was being squeezed in at the beginning of the day and if it took too long, the lab’s schedule would be thrown off. I didn’t know how long it would take. Note to all: If it takes more than 20 minutes and they keep coming in to change your position and shooting more images, you might have a problem. When I returned to the waiting room, it was noon and the waiting room was filled to the brim with all sorts of people and children were scampering about with toys. I was tired and wanted to leave, but the staff wouldn’t let me. This is also a bad sign.

The receptionist called me to the window and told me that the doctor was on the phone wanting to speak to me. I know he said a lot of things, but frankly I didn’t hear anything after “brain tumor..” I hung up the phone, turned to my neighbor and said,” I have a f—ing brain tumor.” Then, shouting,”I have a F—ING BRAIN TUMOR.” I suddenly realized that everyone was staring. The children gaped at me. They were too young to know what a brain tumor was but the F word had stopped them dead in their tracks.

” I am so sorry!” I exclaimed to their mother who was gently scooping up her toddlers.

“That’s  okay”, she replied, compassion stamped across her face.

My neighbor and I drove home. She wanted to sit with me, but I was in shock. I sat at home and got quietly drunk.

 





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