So, it turns out that I am not above fear after all.
In any event, I hope you will find this little story amusing. I’ve become so blasé about my pituitary adenoma that I went to Wednesday’s doctor’s appointment to get a hormone injection and a few refills and completely forgot about the main event.
I had an MRI on Saturday, and I was actually driving away when I remembered that I hadn’t asked for the results. I trundled back in.
Ever the observant chap, I should have realized that something was amiss when the receptionist asked me to wait for the doctor. I assured her that I would be fine. Just five months ago I had an MRI that showed a stable tumor. How bad could it be?
She handed the sheet through the little round window. So I read a few lines, and my heart really did lodge in my throat. Nevertheless, I gave the receptionist a big smile, thanked her, and turned around and said “Fuck!”
And then I walked three meters and said “fuck” again. Emphatically. Then one more time for good measure.
Now my doctor’s office is located in a retirement home. In fact, the practice is called Geriatrics in Motion — a phrase Kristina exclaims with delight at every opportunity — and the room is usually filled with slow-moving seniors. And because of that strange surge of adrenalin which narrowed my focus to a small tunnel directly in front of me, I have no idea if my heartfelt expletives titillated the village bridge club.
I never mean to be a drama queen. The simple fact is that my tumor has grown as much in the last five months as it had in the previous 10 years. So much for the experimental drug trial.
I guess I made a mistake a year ago. I should have insisted on immediate surgery.
Back in the car, I read the radiologist’s report. Then I read it again. Then I stopped at a coffee shop and thought about it. My first reaction was on the money. Wall-E, the rare little endocrine tumor, has grown more than 25 percent since August. On the bad side of the slate, it continues to push into my left sinus (where I can feel it keenly) and has made its first foray into my right sinus, and it’s wider, longer, and deeper. On the positive side, it remains clear of my carotid artery, and I show no sign of hemorrhaging* internally. As I had mentioned previously; the cute little bugger behaving atypically. If it has acted as most do, I would be blind.
But I can still see, and so I count my blessings. I have no reason to complain, nor any reason to think that much has changed. I’m still strong, I’m mostly fearless, and I was always destined to have surgery this year anyway.
I have my an appointment with the endocrinology department next week, and then I’ll have a clear idea of my path, but it will wind up in neurosurgery much sooner than expected.
But, obladi. It’s not like I wasn’t expecting this. To the extent that I’m hurting, it’s for my sister. Comparatively, my ordeal is a walk in the park.
* Hardest word to spell in the English language?