I knew exactly what was going to happen when I turned up at the hospital the following week for my chemo. “How are your feet?” Dr. Z trumpeted from the far end of the corridor. “Not too bad, thanks, actually they’re much better this week,” I said, pointing out that we looked like twins with our bald heads and matching aqua-colored tops.
One thing I have to say about Dr. Z, which can’t be said of all men -- he’s remarkably observant. He spotted right away that I wasn’t being 100% truthful. He grabbed the phone. “You’re getting an ultrasound. We need to rule out blood clots in your legs.” I took a deep breath. “And if your legs are clear, I want ultrasounds of your pelvis,” he said, informing radiology that a crazy woman that ‘tawked’ funny was coming up immediately.
Of course there were no blood clots in either leg. Nor were there any blood clots in my pelvis or in any part of my reproductive system (retired). By the time I got back downstairs, Dr. Z had the results. “Everything is clean,” he said, scribbling furiously in my chart, which was starting to look like half an encyclopedia.
The problem with having cancer in one part of your body is that it might have spread to other areas -- and Dr. Z was determined to track down any errant cancer cells before they got into trouble. Obviously, this was a good thing, especially since all the new tests showed that I was the healthiest person on the planet, but all these exams and trips to different departments took up a huge amount of time. I tell you, having cancer is a full-time job.
Dr. Z didn’t know what to make of my feet. The swelling had begun soon after I started the Taxol part of my chemo, so we decided to keep an eye on them. Thank goodness it was summer – the only footwear that I could get on were flip-flops!
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