Surgery--Again

I know you must, Roberta. It's not right that you should have to, but you must. <sighing again>

very glad to hear you're sleeping a little betta, 'boida...

(((((((Roberta)))))))

My ability to sleep yesterday was obviously a fluke. Today one hour and one and a half hours. This is driving me nuts. But what doesn't.

I hope the melon has somnolent properties.

I'm somnolent. The melon is somnolent. Everything is somnolent--except for the thing that blocks my airway and wakes me up. Sometimes it flaps and makes a noise. Not a snoring noise. A flapping noise. The deflapping meds have either not kicked in yet or ain't gonna.

Enjoying the melon, though.

Canteloupe, I'm already married.

Oh and here's a song called Canteloop, with very odd visuals.

Did I tell you that once my cousin started chemo, she could sleep again? Maybe there's something about cancer that can keep you awake....?

jes, Thanks for the song (I liked it) and the canine musicians.

littlek, Don't know that there's a connection between cancer and sleep--other than worry. Last time I had it, I slept fine. The thing that's bothering me is a specific thing. It was seen on the camera they put down my throat. A swelling on my larynx. When the swelling subsides (I assume it will subside), the problem should subside as well.

Boita, sending you deep, relaxing thoughts as I watch my ropefish chase young guppies away from his bloodworms,

Hugs...

Sounds positively zen, Rockhead. Thanks for the thoughts. (Go guppies!)

Yeah! Zenzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Napping and waiting!

Sleep, no sleep, there's always pickles.

I have three medical appointments this week. The first was today at 9 a.m. Dental appointment at the hospital.

I left the house at 8:20 and walked a block to mail a check for one of my two month's back rent. As the envelope went down the slot, my stomach did something weird. I needed a bathroom toot sweet. As I valiently hobbled back to my apartment, I realized that my breathing was a problem. Stomach upset and asthma attack. Are we having fun yet?

I went to the bathroom and then took two puffs of prednisone. I checked the appointment sheet for a phone number. None. I had no idea whether one appointment was dependent on another. No way to call. I headed back outside.

Bellevue has two buildings--the new and the old. About a mile apart according to me. Probably a long block or two according to everybody else. The dental office is in the old building. I could have gotten to the back entrance and not had to walk the mile, but the appointment slip said that I had to stop in the finance office first which was in the new building. Why? It turns out I had to show them my hospital card. Then I walked the mile.

My appointment slip and a sign by the elevator said that the dental office was on the second floor. I waited for the elevator. Nuttin'. Why? A lady informed me that the second floor was closed. Where's the dental office? Five--another elevator bank. The nice lady took me to five in the freight elevator.

Chris (he and I became friends) gave me some forms to fill out. Then I sat along with a slew of other folks in front of a brand new giant-screen tv to watch a movie Chris had brought in from home. A tech came and got me for X-rays.

Finally got to see the dentist. A nice Asian lady who told me that I had to get a fluoride tray. Why? Because the radiation will permanently dry out my mouth which will rot out my teeth. BFD. My teeth are already rotten from my not being able to go to afford to go to the dentist.

She's very sympathetic. She's gonna do me a favor. She's gonna get me fitted for the tray before I have to pay for it. Highly unorthodox. Usually, you can't get fitted until you pay. Eighty bucks. Did I know I was gonna have to pay out 80 bucks? Did I know that the radiation would dry out my mouth and rot my teeth? Of course not. The dentist also told me to arrange to get my teeth cleaned at my own dentist. Can't afford that plus the tray, but I promised I'd investigate. She said it was important. Leave me alone already.

I get fitted for the tray. The top impression is a problem. It bumps into my swollen larynx and cuts off my air supply. The dentist was undaunted. I was plenty daunted. Done.

Then I had to go pay and bring back the receipt. I had gotten what I thought was a week's supply of money on my way to the mailbox.

I had to walk the three miles back to the new building to get to the place to pay. A line with maybe 20 people in front of me. The line kept moving up, but there were still 20 people in front of me. Then the line thinned out. My turn. No, they don't take checks or debit cards. Cash or money order. How could I have a money order? I didn't know I was getting anything. I paid the 80 bucks and had enough left to get home--just about.

Walked the 8 miles back to the old building and back up to five. The tray will be ready in two weeks. Fine by me. No wait. Let's see if we can get it for you faster. They arranged a one-week tray delivery. Problem is I have no idea when the radiation will be starting. Don't know when I'll be needing the tray or when I'll be able to pick it up. All is arranged with special notes and an appointment, although I'm told that I can come in at any time.

I then have to leave by walking the 12 miles back to the new building. I'm guessing that people in the vicinity thought there was some kind of motor noise annoying the hell out of them. No, it was me breathing. There's a ramp to get out of the building. Everestian.

Made it home minus my week's money supply and facing the prospect of spending the rest of my life with a dry mouth and a fluoride tray. Plus prescription toothpaste at 10 bucks or so a pop.

Next appointment is Wednesday. Gonna drink some barium so that they can see me swallow. That's all I know. This is in the new building. If they make me walk to the old building, I will pitch a hissy fit. Who'd notice? It's Bellevue.

Doesn't sound like fun Roberta. We can't make it go away. But we can listen and care. When you feel like it, do something scandalously pleasant for yourself.

Foxfyre, The listening and caring is fine by me. The situation was made worse by the asthma problem. The walking was horrendous. I'd love to do something self-indulgent. But right now self-indulgent seems mighty tame. Like maybe getting some sleep.

I'll come up with something. Thanks for the caring and listening.

The old building to show the card/pay bit... bizarre. So hard for sick patients. Wondering if there is any way out of that, some other arrangement possible...

I know I keep saying this (or at least I keep thinking it), but there's GOT to be a better way.

You are one strong woman Roberta.
Jespah. How did you know cantaloupe?

Listening.... you are still amazing.

I wish it were easier for you Roberta.

Gentle hugs x