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Panic is not a good look for anyone. It doesn’t feel good either—especially not after dark, beyond bedtime, when all you hear is the quiet breathing of sleepers, of whom you are not one. I felt it descend Saturday night, a little past midnight, so I did the unthinkable: I got up, put on my fuzzy bathrobe, and meditated. Did it make the panic go away? I don’t think so. But afterward, I felt like I could stand apart from it and, well, I got back into bed and went to sleep.
In the days since, meditation has helped keep the crazy at bay. ‘Cause I just don’t feel great. Since mid-October, when we got home from London, I’ve been hoarse. For about three weeks, I did all the usual home remedy sinus stuff. Finally, I finagled a doctor appointment for the first week of November—at least with a doc from the same practice. (Is it as hard for you to see your primary care provider? Sheesh.)
I like this doc. I guess she’s my secondary primary. She listened, then hemmed and hawed. They hoard antibiotics like gold nuggets in this practice, but finally, she talked herself into granting me a five-day course of a stomach-eating virus killer. And it helped. Except for the hoarseness. So, two weeks later I went back and got a diagnosis of GERD (or acid reflux, for the four of you who don’t have it—these days, it feels like everyone does.) (Remind me to tell you the story of GERD and someone in my cancer group….)
And, the hoarseness continued, with nothing too exciting alongside. Except on Saturday evening, my swallowing went a little off-kilter—like a lump in my throat, throat pain, and more sinus hoo-hah. OK, then, maybe I just needed a little decongestant. And, disregarding everything I know about the consistent malpractice of Dr. Google, I went online to check out hoarseness.
I know, I know. But I looked only at reputable sites—Mayo Clinic, Cleveland Clinic. And in their discussion of causes, I found a piece of head-slapper information. Thyroid. Of which I have two, each of which has small masses that have been watched for seven years, until last year when a genetic test indicated I was at low-to-no risk of cancer, and I graduated from monitoring. In a flash, I remembered my primary primary care doc feeling around my neck, asking questions about whether it was hard to swallow.
thyroid
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Now, at the start of the hoarseness, I’d commented a few times that I had a sinus infection—or a new lung tumor. (‘Cause lung tumors do impinge on vocal cords.) I didn’t think that was likely, but I was making fun of the general absurdity of lung cancer. I was the only one who thought it was funny, so I quit. But I did email the cancer crew to mention it, and they said probably sinus, so, having done my due diligence, I truly was fine.
Until Dr. Google, which I checked as I was brushing my teeth, and the panic that encroached as I lay rigid in my bed.
Lesson #1: Do not visit Dr. Google right before bed.
After my emergency meditation, I decided on more due diligence. As someone who does try to learn (despite my instinct to control any situation), I recalled Lesson #2: Work within the medical system instead of beating your head against it (See this post).
I called Dr. Secondary-Primary Monday morning and got a same-day appointment. My goal: get a referral to my ENT doc (Ear Nose Throat). As an existing patient, I suspected I could get an appointment without a referral, but I was trying to behave.
In lung cancer circles, it’s said docs have no problem with second opinions. I’m here to tell you that while Dr. Secondary-Primary was kind and said all the right things—“You’re here to advocate for yourself”—she was a tad…distant. She agreed that my situation could be more than one thing. Then, check this out. When I was stumbling over my words, intending to say that my lung cancer diagnosis had been…delayed (due to General Stupidity), she interrupted and said, “Since it was missed.”
Well, then.
Got the referral, got the appointment with Dr. ENT for the Monday after the holiday weekend, and promptly descended into cringey, embarrassed fear that I’d torpedoed the relationship with Dr. Secondary-Primary. At least Dr. ENT can tackle the sinus mystery….
Must. Meditate.
My husband and mother are staunch in their conviction that I did the right thing. Me? I just don’t feel great. Sinus headaches, pressure, blah blah blah, and general malaise send me to bed early. Almost fell asleep in philosophy class yesterday, decided to check my email, inadvertently launched a video of a soccer game, and as I tried to turn off the sound, ended up making it louder. (OMG, and I’m a teacher.) I said “Excuse me,” and got the Teacher Stare of Death. But he haughtily turned back to his (boring and irrelevant) philosophical argument with another student, and life went on.
Anyway. Here’s my latest cake. It’s a pumpkin crumb with an AI-generated topper. Kiddo wanted his age featured, and a Bay Area theme.
Thanks for reading. Here’s hoping you have some stuff to feel grateful for. And cake.
cake
