Medical Week for the Widow

I’ve been running the roads. Monday, the doctor. Tuesday, the dentist. Wednesday, the infusion center for my first Reclast treatment. I live on the north end of town and everywhere I had to go was on the south end which meant I had to take the expressway with its dreaded S Curve that cuts through the heart of the city. I’ve hated that curve since it was built in the early 1960s. Back then, the power brokers (think a handful of Trump-like creatures) dictated which buildings would be hazed by a wrenching ball and which ones would be spared. Surprise, surprise, their property still stands. A friend who drives the S Curve twice a day says it makes him feel like a race car driver as he banks his car near the outside wall, then crosses over to bank the other side. It’s his favorite part of the day, or so he says. I would rather eat earth worms but that won’t get me to the south end so cancel that trip to the bait shop to buy me a gift. 

I went to the doctor prepared to be bubbling over with happy good health and sharp, witty old lady banter. I was determined to make up for the last time I was there when I told him I didn’t feel well but I couldn’t put my finger on why I felt so spaced out. SPACED OUT? Damn! I thought as drove home that day, I shouldn’t be saying things like that to a guy who could transcribe that into my records as: showing signs of dementia. This time he had a new twist for my visit. He brought a woman in from “records” who, I was told, was going to chart everything we talk about so that he could get back to face-to-face patient-to-doctor talking. “I assume she’s sworn to secrecy?” I asked. “Yes,” the doctor assured me with a broad smile, “what happens in this room stays in this room.” And thus their weird experiment began. It will be interesting to see if they’re still doing it when I go back again. 

When I go to the dentist I probably drive past a couple of hundred dentists along the way. I’ve known the guy since before he went to dental school 25 years ago and if I planned on staying on the north end of the town I’d probably change to the one within walking distance of my house. Old people who drive 40 miles an hour on the S Curve while everyone else is going 80 are frowned upon. Fortunately, I'm still able to keep up but I stay firmly planted in the center lane and hope the pretend race car drivers don’t loss control as they do their crisscross antics in front of me. Once, on an icy night when there were no other cars around, I did a loop-de-loop in the middle of the S Curve. Side note: I just looked up the term ‘loop-de-loop’ to make sure I was spelling the ‘de’ part right and was shocked to see that the urban dictionary defines a loop-de-loop as a sex term for what we old timers used to call the 69 position. I assure you I was not having sex on the S Curve. I was driving south bound, lost control and ended up going north. Since then they’ve spent millions trying to make that section of the highway safer for wintertime driving but I still hate that expressway and the political string pulling that put that ridiculous curve in the city. End of rant.

I told the doctor that I was nervous about getting the Reclast treatment because of my hive and allergy history. He said to tell them at the center if I get itchy so they can slow down the infusion and give me an antihistamine. “Great,” I said, “I’ll scream bloody murder if that happens.” “I wouldn’t advice that,” he replied, “but do let them know.” What I actually wanted him to say was I was worrying unnecessarily, that reactions to Reclast infusions rarely happen. According to the nurse at the center, it is rare but it can happen at the time of the infusion or anytime in the first two weeks. Wonderful. Two weeks of drinking a million glasses of water a day (to help flush the stuff through my system) and two weeks of eating a couple of extra servings of calcium rich foods a day (because the infusion will be working to take calcium from my system and depositing it into my bones) and I’ll be out of The Valley of Hives-Hanging-Over-My-Head. And did I mention only one cup of coffee a day for the next two weeks? 

I did learn something at the center. They now have an infusion medication for chronic hives, if you can get your insurance company to pay for it. I told the nurse I’d mortgage my house to cover the cost if I ever get them as bad as I had them a few years back. Every day for nine straight months of itching, having my face distorted from giant hives and popping four different prescription medications a day was not a walk in the park. On the way home from the center, I stopped for a fresh supply of antihistamines---just in case---and a gallon of ice cream. What a happy coincidence that my new blender came with a malted milk blade. There goes that eleven pound weight loss recorded on my medical chart this week. ©