sicko
Went to the doc today (it was funny trying to make the appointment without being able to generate any volume on the phone) and she confirmed I'd moved into bronchitis and laryngitis territory. She ordered me emphatically not to talk, which, anyone who knows me, knows how funny that is. My parents once offered me money to stop talking when I was a kid. Got the mega antibiotics and cough syrup and had to cancel out on weekly Charlie Jade watching, and now I'll have to skip the instructor meeting tomorrow about the editing practicum I teach, which isn't good, but I definitely do not feel good. My temp keeps reading as 96.2 but even my doctor said immediately, "well, you obviously have a fever" so I have no idea what that's about.
The best thing, though, was something really unexpected and wonderful (this is your cue to leave if you don't want to hear me talk about my sister). When I was in the waiting area, a woman came out to talk to this man and his kid who were picking up something for his wife. It took me a few seconds to realize I was looking at L, the doc's assistant for many, many years, and the best assistant she's ever had. There have been times when L wasn't working there, I think at one point she had kids, but then I'd go back and she'd be there. I always felt like I was in great hands, because both she and my doc are incredible. And I speak as someone who has spent literally thousands of hours with specialists and doctors of all stripes trying to figure out what a problem was. After universally horrid experiences, to meet her and realize that doctors could be more than insensitive asses was this incredible epiphany. And L was such a great assistant that it wasn't the most terrifying and belittling and anxiety-provoking experience in my life to go for a checkup or whatever, it was like walking into a familiar place where... well, everybody knows your name.
When my sister's cancer came back (or, technically, never really left), I was at the doc's for my annual checkup and I told her about the stresses and the anxiety, and she mentioned to me that L was battling the return of her ovarian cancer, as well. I hadn't even known that was why she was gone then, and me and the doctor talked at length about support groups, treatments, and we were both kind of weepy and scared, because L was very, very dear to her, and much more than an assistant. Sis_r died very shortly after that conversation, and I didn't see my doctor again until the same time the following year. We talked about twin loss (she was surprisingly well informed due to personal experience), and a lot of other things, but I noticed she very pointedly didn't mention L, and I was too afraid to ask. Even with all the subsequent visits while we worked out medication levels, we never talked about L, and I assumed she had, like so many ovarian cancer patients, died. A part of me was always incredibly sad when I went into the office, because it wasn't quite the same, even if my doctor was still great.
But there was L today. She looks much older, and she has that kind of look that my sister had after her treatment, her face has changed a little, but despite the darker eye circles and the other changes, she was so familiar. She had the same very businesslike demeanor, the same dry humor, and I told her that it was just so good to see her, and asked how she was doing. I wanted to tell the doctor how excited i was to see L, but she demanded that I not talk, so... next time. Hopefully next time, L will still be there. I know the likelihood of L being out of the woods is quite small, but... I will keep hoping. It made me almost cry, that this fucking awful disease at least didn't claim one more good person, not yet.
Anyway. Because of the illness, I'm moving slower and am still fiddling around with making avi files of my four -- count 'em, four -- premiere vids (two were just dance vids, but you know), and trying to gain some room by removing lesser watched vids from my site. I will with any luck have it done tomorrow, and will let you know when they are up. I replaced Roll to Me and Digging in the Dirt on imeem today, but I have no idea if they will stay up, and I'm kind of wary about putting the new vids up. I didn't expect the honeymoon with imeem to last, but... now that I've lost some vids, I'm very reluctant to get in bed again.
The best thing, though, was something really unexpected and wonderful (this is your cue to leave if you don't want to hear me talk about my sister). When I was in the waiting area, a woman came out to talk to this man and his kid who were picking up something for his wife. It took me a few seconds to realize I was looking at L, the doc's assistant for many, many years, and the best assistant she's ever had. There have been times when L wasn't working there, I think at one point she had kids, but then I'd go back and she'd be there. I always felt like I was in great hands, because both she and my doc are incredible. And I speak as someone who has spent literally thousands of hours with specialists and doctors of all stripes trying to figure out what a problem was. After universally horrid experiences, to meet her and realize that doctors could be more than insensitive asses was this incredible epiphany. And L was such a great assistant that it wasn't the most terrifying and belittling and anxiety-provoking experience in my life to go for a checkup or whatever, it was like walking into a familiar place where... well, everybody knows your name.
When my sister's cancer came back (or, technically, never really left), I was at the doc's for my annual checkup and I told her about the stresses and the anxiety, and she mentioned to me that L was battling the return of her ovarian cancer, as well. I hadn't even known that was why she was gone then, and me and the doctor talked at length about support groups, treatments, and we were both kind of weepy and scared, because L was very, very dear to her, and much more than an assistant. Sis_r died very shortly after that conversation, and I didn't see my doctor again until the same time the following year. We talked about twin loss (she was surprisingly well informed due to personal experience), and a lot of other things, but I noticed she very pointedly didn't mention L, and I was too afraid to ask. Even with all the subsequent visits while we worked out medication levels, we never talked about L, and I assumed she had, like so many ovarian cancer patients, died. A part of me was always incredibly sad when I went into the office, because it wasn't quite the same, even if my doctor was still great.
But there was L today. She looks much older, and she has that kind of look that my sister had after her treatment, her face has changed a little, but despite the darker eye circles and the other changes, she was so familiar. She had the same very businesslike demeanor, the same dry humor, and I told her that it was just so good to see her, and asked how she was doing. I wanted to tell the doctor how excited i was to see L, but she demanded that I not talk, so... next time. Hopefully next time, L will still be there. I know the likelihood of L being out of the woods is quite small, but... I will keep hoping. It made me almost cry, that this fucking awful disease at least didn't claim one more good person, not yet.
Anyway. Because of the illness, I'm moving slower and am still fiddling around with making avi files of my four -- count 'em, four -- premiere vids (two were just dance vids, but you know), and trying to gain some room by removing lesser watched vids from my site. I will with any luck have it done tomorrow, and will let you know when they are up. I replaced Roll to Me and Digging in the Dirt on imeem today, but I have no idea if they will stay up, and I'm kind of wary about putting the new vids up. I didn't expect the honeymoon with imeem to last, but... now that I've lost some vids, I'm very reluctant to get in bed again.