The results hadn't been read by a radiologist by the time I got to my appointment with Dr. T. He said he didn't see anything out of the ordinary in my abdominal area — not with his untrained eye, anyway — but he'd call this afternoon when he got official results.
So this afternoon, he calls. 5:20 p.m. But our f&*%ing phone is broken. We can't hear it ring, and we only know there's a call coming in when the answering machine picks up the message. Then we call back using my cell phone. Only, Dr. T. didn't leave a call-back number. He just said, "This is Dr. T. Sorry I missed you. I'm calling to discuss your CT scan results." That was it.
Sorry I missed you.
And now I have to wait all weekend.
There hasn't been any *bad* news today, so why am I so numb and drained and depressed? Because today, again, I was "the cancer patient." I've had to stare down that dragon, that part of my identity I am loathe to embrace.
Dr. T. seemed most concerned about my hip, of all things, and wanted to make sure we get it checked out, to make sure there's no connection between the hip problem and the cancer or the surgery. Of course, now, every time I feel it twinge and ache, I wonder anew. ... He also wants me to see a medical oncologist (he's a surgical oncologist) for a second opinion about whether I need to follow up the surgery with radiation or chemo. I don't see the need for it if my scans are clear, and he didn't think it was warranted while I was pregnant. But Dr. T. thinks it would be a good idea to get that second opinion. So now I have an appointment set up for May 7 with one Dr. S., whose office is across the hall from Dr. T., and who handles pretty much all the sarcoma cases in the area.
On the plus side, Ben is doing really well with the bottle feeding!
Steve and I (and Ben) stopped for lunch at Blondie's on the way home, and Ben slept the whole time in his car seat, and it felt almost like we were on a date. It was nice. And the carrot cake was to die for.