The Follow-Up ...

Sorry to keep the good folks out there waiting for my update on the heart situation. It was not intentional, but this is honestly the first time since my follow-up appointment that I have had to sit down and write this.

To say I was nervous was a bit of an understatement. To say I was scared witless is probably more accurate. I was scared that I'm 12 days away from turning 40 and my chest was going to have to be cracked open for a bypass or, at the very least, a stent. These kinds of medical problems only serve to feed my hypochondria and making me wait only enables it more.

Fortunately, my fears were unfounded – well those specific fears were unfounded. I've learned a very important truth. ER personnel stink at communication skills. I was told I had NO right superior vena cava. So imagine my surprise when my doctor told me I had a BLOCKED right superior vena cava. Big difference in saying something is missing versus saying something is blocked. Big difference.

Of course not being well versed in medical speak, I'll let this one slide. Regardless, the issue is that I have a blocked vein to my heart. My doctor told me based on the report from my hospital trip that I shouldn't worry about it. All the scans, tests, ultrasounds and whatever medical poking and prodding they did showed that I'm fine and that my heart has bypassed the vein all on its own.

As for the rest of my symptoms, I've pretty much struck out from anyone admitting that any of them were tied to the heart issue. I think it's a vicious conspiracy perpetrated by the medical community for the purposes of encouraging the hypochondria meaning more doctor's visits and more money for them. OK, I don't actually believe that since I happen to have great doctors. OK, I believe it a little bit, but I don't blame the doctors ... much.

I walked away without so much as an aspirin regimen. The only thing the doctor would even consider being remotely related to my heart was the migraines. He did give me something to take at the onset of one and I need to track them for the next three months to see how frequent they may be. If they are too frequent, then he will give me a daily medication for them. Otherwise, I'll stick with what I got.

I've been cleared to keep exercising and if I so choose I can drink caffeinated beverages. All in all an uneventful, but very relieving visit to the MD.

I am indeed very thankful and grateful for all the well wishes, cards, visits, phone calls, inquiries, prayers and hugs that I have received over the last week and a half. I'm a lucky person and God continues to bless my life.

Without a doubt, in 12 days I will be happy to celebrate the big 4-0. And if that isn't a hint people, I don't know what is! Just sayin'.

 

God bless,

Kat

1 Peter 5:7

Hospital Horrors ...

I think it’s safe to say that cancer really and truly sucks. So do the after effects. I mistakenly thought that once I was in remission it would be smooth sailing. My body has not agreed with me on this point. So let’s tally the score sheet. Symptoms that I have gotten during and since my cancer treatments are as follows:

• Migraines
• Shortness of breath
• Swelling in my ankles
• Pressure in my head and face when bending down to pick something up
• General fatigue

All these symptoms had been explained away. For instance, the migraines were probably a combination of hormones and sinuses. The fatigue was because my body went through so much with the chemo and radiation. So on and so forth. These are reasonable explanations, but don’t really offer solutions to the problem.

So for a while now I’ve been feeling like a hypochondriac. While I know that I feel like crud, there never seemed to be any one thing they could put their finger on. Thursday, this all changed. To make a very long story short, I’ll cut to the chase. I’ll not elaborate about the six and a half hours it took in the ER waiting room just to get a room in the ER to be seen. Nor will I mention the fact that after that I spent another seven hours in the ER waiting for a hospital bed to open up to be admitted, that I was questioned, poked and prodded until about 6:00 Friday morning before I was allowed to finally get some sleep only to be awakened two hours later by another round of poking and prodding.

No, I won’t mention all that. I also won’t go into detail that the needy Nelly next to me constantly talked and interrupted EVERY SINGLE CONVERSATION I had with family, friends and doctors and buzzed the nurses repeatedly and argued with her physician and complained about her food and bothered me with questions about her computer and the internet and everything else she could find to talk about. No, I’ll leave that subject alone.

The real “heart” of the problem is this … while in the ER they did a CT Scan on my chest to check for blood clots. I was psyched that they found the structure of my heart was normal and they didn’t find any clotting. Psyched I tell you! Psyched! That is until they said the dreaded word, “but …”

That’s right, it’s always the big but that lets people know how FUBARed the situation has really become. I will not take the time to explain what FUBAR stands for. Those of you that already know, I don’t need to tell and those of you who don’t know, believe me, you don’t want to know. Suffice it to say it means messed up. REALLY messed up.

The big but in this case meant that the scan showed that there was, and I quote, “an absence of the right superior vena cava to my heart.” So what the heck is a vena cava you may ask? I know I did! Well, in laymen’s terms it is a big ole vein that pumps the blood back to my heart. Now, let that sink in for a moment …


… And now comes the “HOLY CRAP!” moment that my parents and I had when they were telling us this.

Fortunately, because God is an awesome God and He knew what He was doing when He created the human body, my heart has compensated for this by using smaller veins and capillaries to pump blood into itself. Unfortunately, my circulation isn’t near what it should be, thus potentially causing all the issues listed above.

While in the hospital, my oncologist and a cardiologist both agree that this problem with the vena cava is due to where they placed the mediport in my chest so that I could receive the chemo treatments. Apparently, the body doesn’t particularly like foreign objects placed in the veins to your heart. The people most likely have this kind of issue that were not born with it are people who have had pacemaker wires, dialysis, other heart or intravenous catheters, or people like me who have had lymphoma tumors and/or mediports implanted. I sure there are other various causes, but I have not read extensively on the subject since I just learned about it Thursday.

They ran a number of tests on me to make sure that I didn’t have any clotting or blockages. I had to have a heart ultrasound which wasn’t too bad. I had already had two of those while I was undergoing the chemo so I knew what to expect. I also had to have a stress test – they said something wasn’t working somewhere so it would have to be done in two parts over two days. Translation: We need to be able to charge more money so we will keep you here for another day.

On Friday, I was injected with dye and stuck on a table for pictures to be taken of my heart. No big deal. I wasn’t supposed to eat or drink anything after midnight, but was supposed to have had a stress meal the next morning before the test. They told me that I would have my stress test around 8:30 in the morning. I fell asleep Friday night around 10:00. Saturday morning I woke up at 7:30. I waited patiently for my stress meal. 8:30 came and went and no one came to get me for the stress test. Needy Nelly was still asleep when they brought her breakfast in at 9:00. I waited patiently for my stress meal. At 9:30 one of the nurses came in and said, “I don’t know why you haven’t gotten your stress meal. I’ll call downstairs to see where it is at.” I thanked Nice Nurse Michelle and waited patiently for my stress meal.

A little after 10:00, my pastor strolled in with a cup of finely brewed coffee. I don’t drink coffee, but since I was hungry AND hadn’t had any caffeine since Thursday night, I was seriously thinking about stealing his coffee. Before I had the chance, Nice Nurse Michelle brought me a Sprite and said I could drink that since I was obviously not getting the stress meal. I had a few sips of Sprite and at about 10:45 they came to take me down for the stress test. My stomach growled. Pastor Hughes said a prayer and was off, taking his coffee with him.

I was wheeled down to the treadmill room and hooked up to every monitor lead they could find. They had five leads across my chest and five leads underneath my left breast. I only am making a point to tell you this as it plays a part later on in the story. They left me sitting in this cold meat locker of a room to wait for the doctor to come in to administer the stress test all the while thinking about the stress meal I never got. After about an hour, the doctor came in and they were getting me ready to get on the treadmill.

Now I have all 10 leads hooked up to my body, a blood pressure cuff attached to my right arm, a syringe of sodium chloride sticking out of the IV in my left arm and a gown that doesn’t ever seem to cover enough but is enough material to keep getting in the way when Omar the lab tech introduces himself. He gets me up on the treadmill and states, “This will start out slow and gradually get faster.” I said, “ok."

Omar started the treadmill at the speed of light and after I caught myself, I said with a bit of irritation to my voice, “That was not gradual.” His response was, “Yeah, I’m not real familiar with this machine.” My response was given with even more irritation as I said, “Well, OMAR, maybe you should stop touching the buttons and get someone in here that is familiar with this machine.”

The doctor then piped in with a, “You’re doing great!” comment. Of course I was doing great, I wasn’t thinking about the stupid treadmill. I was thinking about hitting OMAR upside the head. The doctor told Omar to kick it up a notch and the treadmill moved into warp speed. Then the doctor indicated that he wasn’t getting a correct reading on my heart rate. I know what my heart rate was … it was exploding you jerk! So they brought in Trish because she hooked me up. Trish decided that I had too much boobage – that was her clinical term for it – and it was interfering with one of the leads.

So now, I have all 10 leads hooked up to my body, a blood pressure cuff attached to my right arm, a syringe of sodium chloride sticking out of the IV in my left arm, a gown that doesn’t ever seem to cover enough but is enough material to keep getting in the way, Omar the lab guy trying to stick another syringe in my arm so they can inject some dye and Trish holding my left breast and pressing on the lead while I’m trying to walk very quickly on a treadmill. Really? I mean really?

At this point I have to wonder why these oddities keep occurring when I’m being tested for something. Rewards to the first person who can give me a credible answer for this little pondering. Regardless, I got through the stress test was made to wait again and then stuck on the table to have more pictures of the heart taken. All of that to say there was no clotting or blockage and that I could go home. I was thankfully discharged from the hospital at 6:00 Saturday evening.

I do not know what the course of treatment will be for the superior vena cava, which subsequently isn’t looking all that superior, but I do have a follow up appointment with my general practitioner on Wednesday. Hopefully, he will give me some clear guidance as to the do’s and don’ts and what my options at this point are.

Thanks to all of the well wishes and prayers. I appreciate them and all of you. Hopefully, I will have an update in the next few days.

- Kat 1 Peter 5:7

Dazed and Confused

For those of you keeping up, I went in for my six-month check-up with my oncologist on Monday. To say I was dazed and confused by the time the appointment was over is a bit of an understatement.

However, before I go any further I will put your minds at ease and tell you that I am doing well and am still cancer free. The X-rays looked great and since I haven’t gotten any phone calls, I am assuming my blood work is fine also. They will only call me when the news is bad.

The visit started off with an overview and follow-up from a nurse practitioner in the office. She asked if I was having any issues - you know the typical doctor/patient dialogue. Then my oncologist came in holding his chest and spouting foreign words and phrases like, “soon to be 40” and “mammogram” and other such nonsensical terms.

Here’s where he drops the doom and gloom:

Did you know that when you have radiation treatment in the areas I had radiation treatment (neck, chest and side) that it increases your risk of getting heart disease, breast cancer and thyroid disease/cancer?

Did you know that while not a rare form of cancer, Hodgkin’s Disease is not considered a common form either? And did you that the recurrence of Hodgkin’s is not only possible, but more likely probable?

Of course you did. Or you should have because I was told that during my treatment a couple + years ago. However, what I was not informed of was the significance of the risks. He went on to say that now that I’m in remission he wanted me to go to a survivorship doctor. They specialize in more foreign phrases like, “all the long-term effects the treatment did to you”.

Excuse me? Long-term effects? Like how long is long-term? A year, five years, a lifetime? You mean there are more potential problems than neuropathy and difficulty breathing and migraines and hypochondria? Good grief – literally.

So then he goes back on the mammogram thing. He told me that I need to have a mammogram because:
1) It is that time in my life that it needs to be done and
2) They need to check to make sure the radiation treatment hasn’t caused me to have breast cancer … but, … wait for it … he doesn’t like the fact that to check the possible damage of radiation you have to have a mammogram and that is essentially putting more radiation in your body so I have to see this survivorship doctor first (but not for six months I might add) to see if there are other ways to do a mammogram or some other facsimile thereof. However, before I go see the survivorship doctor, I have to have a chest x-ray which also pumps more radiation into my body. So I really don’t see the difference in just getting the mammogram versus having another x-ray and then being told to get a mammogram … see why I’m confused?

Bottom line is that most tests for cancer involve coming into contact with some form of radiation. X-rays, CT scans, MRIs, PT scans, mammograms all have the potential to do harm over the “long-term”. And if you have had cancer and are in remission then the number of tests you have in life is increased exponentially as you will need to continue having these tests to monitor your health. The radiation treatment for cancer might cause cancer. Aftercare testing might cause cancer. Airport security might cause cancer. Drinking the water might cause cancer. You get the idea. And that’s just the effects of the radiation. Don’t even get me started on the “long-term” effects of the chemotherapy … mostly because I will need to talk to the survivorship doctor first to get a list of potentially harmful and “long-term” side effects that have yet to raise their specter.

When I left his office, I seriously had no clue as to what he just said to me. I knew I should have taken someone with me or at least recorded the conversation. So as of right now, aside from the migraines I continually have, I don’t think I have any health issues …

Oh, but wait! I have to schedule an appointment with my GP for blood work and other stuff. I went in December with my annual 10 month long sinus infection that I always seem to get at that time of year and he had the nerve, the unmitigated gall, to tell me that I was at “that age” in which I should start getting regular six month check-ups to check my cholesterol, blood sugar, blood pressure and whatever (sigh) middle-aged people have to deal with. Gah! “That age,” indeed! I would be incensed if it weren’t somewhat maybe kinda true. But still, he didn’t have to say it. I have feelings, you know.

Anyway, as always I appreciate your prayers and kind words of encouragement. It means so much to me. I hope your New Year is going well.

God bless,
Kat
1 Peter 5:7