Due Diligence + More Lessons In Medical Advocacy | Dec 13 2024

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On My Visit to Dr. ENT

I saw the mild-mannered, very kind ENT on December 2. He used his ENT super-gadgets to look deep into my throat.

“Wow,” he said, as he examined the area. “Wow, your vocal cords are really angry. I mean, they’re red and very inflamed.”

We looked at diagrams of the throat, esophagus, and vocal cords, and kicked around ideas about what the cause could be. His first thought was that the earlier course of antibiotics I’d had in the fall hadn’t been long enough. Or maybe it was thrush in my throat.

“Or maybe it’s connected to lung cancer,” I suggested. After all, hoarseness can be a symptom.

He dismissed that idea, especially given how raw and red my vocal cords were. “Maybe,” I thought, unconvinced.

I left with a 10-day prescription for antibiotics.

In the hallway outside his office, I stopped in my tracks—I’d meant to ask about adding a scan of the neck to my upcoming CT. After a little pro-and-conning in the hallway, I went back and asked to speak with him. He’d already moved on to another patient, so the nurse said she’d relay my request. When I didn’t hear back, I figured I’d just wait to see what happened. After all, I was seeing Dr. Oncology a few days later.

In hindsight, I realize that if I’d remembered to bring it up directly with Dr. ENT, I could have sweetly pushed the matter. Ah well, live and learn.

Meanwhile, my voice is mostly back. I’ll check in with Dr. ENT next week.

On the Results of the 12/6 Scan

Stable! Woo hoo! Let the planning for our February trip to New Zealand begin in earnest.

I was surprised at my lack of scanxiety this time. It’s probably because I was so preoccupied with The Case of the Mysterious Hoarseness.

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On My Visit to Dr. Oncology

Dr. Oncology always asks how I’m doing, and I’ve been increasingly honest. I told her that I’ve been in turmoil about the hoarseness but was finally starting to get a grip.

After some chatting about our travels since the summer—London for me, Germany for her—the conversation turned to lung cancer.

“You look good on paper,” she said, likely referring to my off-kilter emotional state.

She was very interested in the hoarseness, because yes, lymph node activity can compress certain parts of the esophagus (insert scientific name here ________).

She softly suggested we get a CT of the neck, “just to do our due diligence.” After reviewing Dr. ENT’s notes, she emphasized that given the visual presentation of the very raw vocal cords, a CT was purely precautionary. Still, given the realities of lung cancer, we needed to dot our i’s and cross our t’s.

See? I knew some things. My thought about the CT had been solid.

I’m not going to play the coulda-shoulda-woulda game too intensely, because when I realized I’d forgotten to push the CT with Dr. ENT, I also realized I’d be seeing my oncologist soon after. Still, I could have saved myself a little radiation exposure.

This series of experiences has reinforced the importance of trusting my knowledge and advocating for myself. I’m thinking about:

1. How to continue developing this skill.
2. Exploring this topic further and sharing what I learn.

Meanwhile, I’ll be scheduling the CT as soon as insurance clears it.

On My Flirtation with Being a Couch Potato

There’s been heavy pressure to rest, rest, rest to give my body a chance to heal. I confess, it’s much easier to stay off the bike than to get back on.

That said, I have started again, because I’m really interested in staying off blood pressure medication. Plus, I want to support my body’s inclination to heal itself. Exercise is also critical to my attitude—endorphins FTW!

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On Becoming an Old Fart

Maybe it’s the lack of exercise, combined with my growing preoccupation with the Big H, but I caught myself sliding into a state I want to avoid as I get older: being an Old Fart.

Haven’t you been in a coffee shop where several silver-haired folks are gathered? You’re waiting in line and eavesdropping shamelessly (well, I am, anyway—it’s part of my endless curiosity about the human condition. My husband calls it nosiness).

More often than not, the conversation revolves around medical woes. Sometimes it feels like a game of “Can You Top This,” also known as “Why I Have the Most Right to Be Pitied.” Or, it’s commiseration about why “it used to be better back then.”

I’ve noticed that the “youngest” oldsters are the most curious about everything. They want to see what happens next, to learn something new. They’re amused by the world, even if slightly bemused by the idiocy blooming around them.

For me, grimness is a hallmark of Old Fartness. Whether public or private, it’s characterized by slogging and enduring—sometimes even a sense of martyrdom or self-pity. In my case, it was more about grit and emotional exhaustion. I muscled through without complaining or worrying. What alternatives were there? It was like living under a threatening sky—who could believe in the sun?

Recently, though, I’ve shifted. Maybe it’s because of the movement on The Mysterious Case of the Big H. Or realizing my attitude needed fine-tuning. Or those endorphins. Probably a little of each.

So, the Adventures Continue

Thanks for reading. Here’s hoping you have some wonderful adventures coming up.

And here’s a lemon cake for a sweet 7-year-old. The presence of sprinkles is very important! (But getting them to stick on the sides instead of the floor is something I have yet to master.)

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