Day 2 The next morning we were on our way to the hospital for a biopsy by 6 AM. We were supposed to arrive at 7 and get in at 7:15. We were a little early. When we checked in they had no idea we were scheduled and said they’d have to call somebody to find out what was going on. They weren’t rude, but when you’re looking desperately for anything good, polite indifference is so alienating. I’m determined to never treat anybody like that again. We sat and waited till about 8. We were working on being philosophical and brave. After I made two or three trips to the desk we were finally called over to a little cubby-hole to sign-in. It was all that usual stuff about insurance and signing all the forms that mean who knows what. Sis struck up a conversation with the young girl that was being mentored by the lady who was signing us in. She always does stuff like that. She notices the people in the back and makes ‘em feel important. That’s one of the things that make her so good at what she does. We finally made our way to the waiting room for the biopsy test. These rooms are always decorated the same. The lighting is harsh and the TV in the corner is tuned to the local news. When we’re led to the little curtained prep room we get our first contact with somebody who gives a hoot to the wind. This is the first person that seems to notice we’re even there. Everybody else just goes about their routines; telling their familiar stories to each other while we walk by. A nurse, Cindy, starts to ask us questions while she takes Sis’ blood pressure and temperature, and once we start talking we can’t shut-up. Apparently we’re very upset with the doctor who sent us into this hurricane of gloom. Sis tells the story of doctor Anderson leaving her sitting two hours in the waiting room, just to spend fifteen minutes shoveling dirt in on her, She tells about the way his office staff turned away from her as she walked by and let her wander down the hall, lost, trying to find her way out of there. It’s good to see somebody else thinks that’s shabby and shameful. I’m sure there are a lot of good people in the medical profession, but I wouldn’t tolerate in myself the absolutely mediocre, insensitive behavior Sis was subjected to by doctor Anderson, and he’s a highly educated, and accomplished man. I’m just a defiantly proud high school graduate. For all the knowledge and academic accomplishment I see around me I bet I’m still the only here that can tune a banjo. At the moment everybody I encounter in the white coat has to prove him or herself to me. Cindy, on the other hand, is doing a good job. She’s all right. Then we meet Christy, another nurse who helps with the biopsy, and she does a good job. She treats us like people. We tell her about doctor Anderson and she is appalled. Good for her. Sis is finally, after a couple of hours, in getting the biopsy. It’s going to take an hour. I take this opportunity to slip out to the house and grab an Imitrex for that migraine I’m developing. When I get back she’s back in the curtained prep room drinking a coke and having some potato chips. My headache is starting to go away. We’re waiting a couple of hours to make sure she’s stable. When everything seems good they wheel her out to the parking garage, we load up, and we’re on our way. When we get to the house I know what’s going to happen. I’ll help her into the house because she’s still woozy, and when we hit the front door we’ll make that mad dash to the kitchen sink and she’ll throw up. Yup, just like clockwork, Coke and potato chips. And now she sleeps. That’s good. I don’t know how long she’ll be asleep, but it’ll be awhile. The phone. It’s doctor Church, our family doctor. I like her. She’s heard about what’s going on from doctor Anderson’s office. I know she hasn’t heard from him because he left town for vacation, and won’t be back until Monday. She springs into action and schedules a cat scan and a mammogram for the next day. She’s all over this stuff. It’s not the kind of thing you ever want to hear about or do, but you have to, and she makes you feel like something can be done. Doctor Anderson never mentioned that there were treatment options. What an ass. Doctor Church is really helping lead the charge. It seems finally; someone is going to help us dig out of this deep, dark hole. This is all still very terrifying, but at least we have something to do about it now. Well there she is, my angel, and it looks like she can walk without falling down. Okay, something to eat. We go to J Alexander’s for salad, pick at it a little bit . . . that’s it. I wonder . . . Yup, had to throw up again. <back