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. ©
