No Camels Harmed In The Making of This Post | Oct 27 2023

You can walk away from lung cancer treatment with a lot of tools. Play your cards right and you become scrupulously aware of how your body feels. When you use that awareness, and your experience, to take care of yourself, you add a new dimension to the concept of self-advocacy. Here’s what I mean.

Straw I

I was down for the count with a stupid cold all last week (not Covid) which is never a happy event. Midweek, the upper part of my chest started to hurt, just below my shoulders. I figured I’d give it a day to see what, if anything, developed. My mother innocently wondered if it might be good to get it checked. I’d been thinking that myself, but because I sometimes have the maturity of a basketball, I didn’t call until the next day. (After all,  I am a Grown Woman And I Can Decide These Things For Myself.)

Around here, you can’t ever get in to see a doctor on the same day, which is probably why they invented Immediate Care facilities. But let me share some magic words with you: chest pain. I hurriedly followed these words with reassuring disclaimers: only with a cough. Eureka! I snagged the last available appointment for the following day, at 8:30 a.m. (OK, I have extra magic words: lung cancer, but those probably wouldn’t work for you.)

The next morning, she told me I’d done exactly the right thing by calling and coming in. She tapped and listened and allowed as how yes, indeedy, you’re sick, but you’re moving good air blahblahblah. But, chest = heart, thus, EKG. Chest also equals lungs, so, bonus lung x-ray.

All afternoon, the reports trickled in– Ping Ping Ping Ping Ping Ping– one notification for each report and doctor’s message.

The bottom line: I had a rotten cold and should take some acetaminophen for discomfort.

Straw II

Late in the week, I noticed a weird cramp-like feeling in my calf. I tried stretching, it didn’t resolve; I figured it just needed a little time and forgot about it. Another day later, I noticed protruding veins at the site that was unhappy. Stretching still didn’t help. Then, in one of those middle of the night flashes of brilliance, it came to me: pulmonary embolism. 

I was pretty sure I was fine. After all, I had no shortness of breath, no wheezing or coughing, a lovely pulse-ox, a normal pulse, and regular daily use of blood thinner medication.

Saturday morning, I called my friend, Dr.ER, a former Emergency Room physician, and gave her the lowdown. Before she could speak, I said, “The correct answer is not the ER.” (Echoes of the past, anyone?) She laughed. She saw my point and we reviewed the pros and cons. Pros: ER & get everything taken care of, 1, 2, 3 skidoo. Cons: L O N G wait; taking up the spot of somebody who might really need to be there. With her blessing, I decided to go to a nearby immediate care facility.

The online scheduling form always asks, “What is the main concern you would like to have addressed?” I tried to be succinct: History of PE. New left calf ache at the site of newly prominent veins. Just want to check….

The person on duty told me later that as soon as she saw that, she was going to call and say “Just go to the ER.” But she decided to wait the two hours and talk to me.

I’ve seen this woman before and really like her. I covered the deets: elevation difficulty, rotten cold, now this. Discussion ensued: Pros. Cons. (See Dr. ER, above.)

She ended up agreeing that I could wait for a vascular sonogram until Monday, but she was putting in a stat order and I should call early in the morning. And in the event that things changed, in specific ways like blahblahblah, I should go immediately to the ER.

Here’s the thing that caught my attention. She said

people who have been treated for cancer have to be extra aware of how they are feeling, and take action before non-cancer people would.

That was new for me. (Maybe it correlates with Dr. Pulmonology’s comment that chemo makes the immune system wonky.) So, at least there was one nugget to emerge from that appointment.

Then there was:

The Good Part

The sonogram dude let me video the screen while he did the procedure. How cool is that????!! So here’s your Moment of Science for today: a brief clip of a vascular sonogram of left femoral veins/arteries (I’m not sure about this specific part of the clip.) There’s color, red for oxygenated blood and blue for whatever-the-opposite-of-oxygenated is. And there’s sound too! I didn’t capture the part that we agreed sounded like a banshee about to attack, but what’s here will give you an idea.

The moral of the story: Lung cancer, ugh. But you must take care of health business, even if it’s different than what a non-lung cancer person might do. The silver lining: it might come with cool video options.

Thanks for reading. Here’s hoping you’re well, with no banshee attacks in the offing.