EPO Shots Day 2 - Treatment 2
    Well, first, I was able to pick up the copy of the Protein Electrophoresis, Serum results. Because of the shortness of the page and the location of the test, the link leads to a point two tests above the actual results; scan down a couple of tests and you'll see it.
    Things were jumping today, at the clinic. I was tired so I didn't take certain incidents well immediately after the appointment, although my attitude has changed, this evening, after taking a much needed nap. Mom's hematologist admitted that he didn't get a chance to read my fax, even though I called just previous to faxing my questions along with the CBC I had drawn yesterday. So, I asked the first question, anyway, and he responded, in an even tone, "I told you," no, he hadn't; we've barely talked about Mom's therapy and I am sure he hadn't told me...I remember these things, especially since I take notes and often report them immediately, here; do I have a sign saying, "Stupid Woman: You Can Say Anything" on my forehead!?!?, "after four weeks we'll test her again and see how it's going."
    As it turns out, her PCP wants weekly CBC's, anyway, when she's running low, which I told the hematologist, to which he shrugged. I told him, since we'd be running them anyway, I'd be faxing him copies. Then I said, "Well, that takes care of the rest of the questions," which it more or less did, seeing as how he made it clear he was unwilling to discuss Mom's anemia in detail at this point and he was off down the hall to his Chemo Patient room. At the time, once we were settled in the car, I overflowed with frustration which, I'm embarrassed to admit, leaked over the edge as a few tears. I'm better now, recalling how full the waiting room was and how busy everyone was. And, of course, my questions were answered, however abruptly.
    One high point: At last week's appointment, when the doctor had more time to display more interest, I mentioned to him that "probably the most important aspect of my mother is her incredible will and spirit." This week, as he knelt before her to administer another shot to her belly, he made eye contact and asked her how she was feeling. Pale as she was, blotchy pink/white as her lips were, she started in surprise and answered in a strong, why-do-you-ask voice, "I'm fine! I feel great!"
    I watched the doctor as she answered. His eyes widened, then he grinned. "Well, good. That's the way to feel," he said.
    I was more than pleased to realize that he "got it" about my mother.
    I was also glad that she displayed yet another aspect of her elderly-demented make-up that is important for doctors to note, as it is a large part of the reason why she isn't a good candidate for tests in which she is required to cooperate: Although I'd been coaching her for the last two days about the previous and upcoming shots, she was clearly shocked when the hematologist approached her with the needle and asked, "Where do you want it?"
    She flashed me a look of grave concern.
    I clasped her hand and reassured her that this was the reason for the appointment, just like last week, "Remember?"
    She turned her consternation back to the doctor. He wiped a spot on her right belly with an alcohol swab and quickly approached her with the needle. Before the tip made contact, she flinched. The doctor's eyebrows shot up.
    I laughed. "She reacted," I pointed out, more as an underline than anything else, "before the needle even made contact."
    The doctor nodded, barely, kept his eyes on Mom, zeroed in and shot her. "You were preparing yourself," he confirmed.
    It was obvious that he took marked note of this, though.
    One of the things I love about this doctor, too, is that, even when busy, he is adamant about making much more contact with Mom than with me. She is, after all, the patient. I sense that he makes her feel as though it is she who matters during these visits, not me. This is good, and important, because, well, it is she who matters.

    What a day. Just before I awoke my mother, as I was finishing my last post, I realized I was so tired that I decided to take a "cold" pill. If it's not the first time I've done this when a trip isn't involved, it's probably only the second. Today, though, I was so tired that, if it helped, I couldn't tell. It certainly didn't keep me from taking nap when Mom went down for hers. I'm still tired, but at least I'm not downhearted. I expect I'll be hitting the sack before midnight, tonight. I can't remember the last time I retired this early. Mom's already snuggled in for the night. It's 2317 and my eyeballs feel like hot marbles. Although I'm in the middle of a review post on a movie, I don't think I'll finish it tonight. Another day, another attitude...at least that's what I'm hoping.
    Later.
- posted by Gail Rae @ 23:18   email  this post