Part Two

Thanks to all who read and commented on my first-ever blog.  I hope the multiple emails you received about it as I stumbled to figure out both Blogger and Google + were not too annoying.  I'm still figuring out the best method of writing it, posting it, and letting you know about it.  Try to make this one a little briefer.

In my first post I wrote about discovering I had a brain tumor and scheduling and completing the surgery to remove it.  The tumor removed is called a Glioblastoma brain tumor with a malignancy rating of class IV, which is the highest.  I am now waiting for my noggin to heal completely so the next stage of treatment can begin.  This will involve some combination of radiation and chemotherapy.  My first consultation with a radiation oncologist to discuss treatment is scheduled for Friday, Aug. 9.  I got that moved up from its original date of Wednesday, Aug. 14.  I'm still trying to move up my other appointment with a medical oncologist up from Monday, Aug.12, so I can get the ball rolling on both docs this week instead of next week.

10 days after surgery I returned to UNM Hospital to get my surgical staples removed.  This day was pretty much a low point in my experience with UNM-H.  First, getting those staples yanked out of my scalp is not an experience I'll be recommending to any of you soon.  It was enough to make me pop a couple of Oxys for the first time since a few days after the surgery, but it was Tylenol-tolerable by the next day.

Second, I guess my expectation that I'd be seeing my doctor that day and learning more about the future of this thing was unreasonable.  Didn't seem so to me, but I guess it was.  What happened is that a nurse practitioner comes in, yanks the staples out of my head, then hands me a yellow carbon copy of a UNM diagnostic report.  It has the words "Glioblastoma WHO (World Health Org) Grade IV" scribbled in barely legible doctor writing at the top of the page, and nothing else on the page except my two appts with oncologists over 3 weeks away scribbled at the bottom of the page.

I look at the NP in bewilderment and ask her, that's it?  OK, what time is my doctor coming in to tell me what all this means?  Her response is the classic blank stare we all know and love.  So I ask the NP to go find my doctor so I can ask some questions.  She disappears for about 15 minutes and the re-appears to tell me the doctor can see me in about 90 minutes.  Of course I immediately translate to 3 hours, so Pam and I just pack up my aching head and my ignorance and walk out.

Over the next couple of days I make several calls to various gatekeepers, stonewallers, and other automatons in attempts to become a little more informed about my disease and the next steps to treat it.  I want to know what's in store for me next (sorry, never had cancer before) and why I'm not seeing anyone for at least another three weeks, which, BTW, is AFTER my disability time off from work expires.  (It's OK, I was eligible for plenty more time and have already extended it.)  Of course these efforts generate no useful info and I get sick of calling, natch.

However, things have ways of working out sometimes, even for (or maybe especially for) obnoxious dickheads like your blog author.  What happens next is not really that unusual, if you believe in regular visitations from angels.

Pam and I met a couple named Nito and April a few years ago and developed a somewhat unlikely friendship.  Now this guy Nito is nothing less than a certified genius, and he was working as a microbiology professor at UNM when we met.  Both he and April are the sweetest people you ever met, and they have a beautiful boy and girl who are maybe 7 and 10 (?)  They met in Madison, WI where they both went to college and then later moved to ABQ and started a family when Nito got the UNM gig. Both Nito and April are athletic people who love to run, hike, climb -- and play squash and racquetball until their arms fall off.  How we met was that Nito was teaching a step aerobics class at the best health and racquet club in ABQ, called New Mexico Sports & Wellness, which he did only to get a free membership for him and his family.  Pam was in the class and they became friendly.  I was working at the club as a corporate membership rep and we all became friends.  Let's face it: if I didn't have Pam around I wouldn't have any friends . . . one of the many reasons I love and need her so.  Earlier this year, Nito was approached by Tulane Univ with an offer he couldn't turn down, so the entire family packed up and moved to NOLA.  The family was not happy about the move -- esp April, who LOVES New Mexico -- but ya gotta do what ya gotta do, right?

OK, back to me and my cancer.  I get a call one day from Nito, checking in on me to see how I'm doing.  We have a nice chat, at the end of which I bitch a little about my frustration with the level of info I'm getting from UNM-H and the Cancer Center.  Nito responds: "Well you know . . . the Director of the UNM Cancer Center is an old friend of mine.  Let me make a call or two and see if I can help you out a little."

WHAM!  Two days later I am besieged by emails and phone calls from the UNM Cancer Center Director and her various minions, requesting the opportunity to serve my every need.  A really nice guy calls me, gives me his cell # and tells me to call or text him day or night -- and he has never failed to answer.  Needless to say, my relationship with the UNM Cancer Center has turned a big 180, I have the appts dates and times I wanted, and all systems are go for the next stage of treatment to get going shortly.

My Man Nito!  Getting it done Chicago-style!  Big payback coming your way for this major solid, my brother!

That's pretty much the whole cancer story up til now.  By this weekend I'll know what the immediate future holds.  Thanks for your interest and support.  Riding the Love Train with you all to the big happy ending!