Doc's appt. today:
She said that there didn't seem to be anything wrong just from the looks of things, and the ultrasound showed nothing abnormal. Now I have to wait for the test results (a couple of days) and have to go have my annual CT scan, but on the whole she said the pain would probably be a mild infection in the surgeried area. She says this is very common and has given me a prescription and said to take it easy for a few days, more sleep, which is always nice, and to get the CT scan as soon as possible, with some blood tests.
The CT scan and cellular test will show definitively, but she said there are no visible signs of cancer.
Went down to St. Peter's after the appointment, (thinking I might go in for a bit, but being a Wednesday the line was incredible) and sat in the Piazza for a while at the foot of one of the columns, watching the kids playing, chasing the pigeons, and the Philippina nuns having lunch after the weekly audience, the crowds of tourists following along behind the tour guide ladies holding up their little umbrellas. They've still got the banners up from the canonisations on Sunday.
Rather peaceful, in a busy sort of way.
Here's a cool old-timey song for you to chill to.
~
1 comment:
Hilary,
"See? I told you..."
You're the fourth one in four weeks.
At the end of September, both my dad and a close friend began experiencing terrific pain in their ribs, back, and hips. Unfortunately both are dealing with a return of known localized prostate cancer, so the ache convinced them separately that a face to face with Azrael was right around the corner.
Having had the Damn Stuff myself, I was chewing my nails along with them. The wife, on the other hand scoffed, calling us "man-babies."
Well, both dad and friend had CT and bone scan. All tests came back negative. Turns out the pain in each case can be chalked up to degenerative arthritis of the spine, i.e., general oldness.
As for me, the three year anniversary was last month, which means this month was time for my semi-annual visit to Dr. Oncology. Sitting there in the confidence inspired by boxers and backwards hospital gown, I was relieved to hear again his always laconic, "Whelp, PSA still undetectable."
He says it that way at every visit, and every time I want to respond, "'Still?' Gee, can't we be a little more definite?"
Anyway, at the end of all this, what did I receive from the wife but "See? I told you."
May it ever be so.
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