Residue
I tipped over on a mountain bike ride on Sunday the 10th of March. Tipped over -- really, not much more than that. As much as I would like a better story, it was the end of a ride at Lynn Woods and I tipped over climbing up a small incline that leads out of the woods and into the Naked Fish parking lot on Route 1. Prior to this incident, I fell several times and even invented a new way of embracing the crash. I simply get up and offer a form of dance poses that become a part of the performance of mountain biking. I go down, I get up and perhaps extend one leg and both arms at a ninety degree angle to my body. It made Lindsay laugh so that makes it good.
In addition to crashing because my Camelback got caught on a tree branch, I also accomplished some sections of the trail that I have previously not been able to do. When I was riding out at the end of the ride, I was feeling pretty cocky.
"I am a badass," I said to myself. In fact, there is photographic proof by Thomas Gustainis to prove that I am a badass:
I am thinking that I am hot shit and I hit the little hill that marks the end of the ride. Almost at the top, my front wheel hits a rock and turns and I start to go down. I pushed myself away from the bike and somehow managed to land on my left side and my fist went straight into my rib, knocking the wind out of me and causing a great deal of pain. The best part, and by best I mean worst (I am employing sarcasm here), is that I just purchased new Dainese chest/back armor:
I purchased this armor specifically to protect my chest and ribs as bruising my sternum was one of the most painful injuries that I have experienced. Despite my new armor, I managed to slam my rib with my fist and knock the wind out of my lungs. Damn that hurts.
I had a hard time getting comfortable that evening and a difficult time sleeping. When I woke up the next morning, unable to move without so much pain that I wanted to cry, I knew I had to go to the doctor. From prior experience with the sternum injury, I knew that the biggest problem with this injury is not whether it is bruised or broken, but mitigating the pain to allow for deep breathing. Because it hurts to breath, one tends to breath more shallowly, which in turn can cause lung issues including pneumonia. I called my doctor and she saw me that morning. Unfortunately, I had a horrible experience with my time at the hospital. My physician is part of the Bullfinch Group at Massachusetts General Hospital. Excellent health care, but I always get a bit tense and anxious when facing any medical interaction.
My physician saw me almost right on time. I like that. It makes me so angry when physicians make me wait far beyond my scheduled appointment to actually see me. My time is valuable and I am a real doctor. The event began with me attempting to remove my jacket for an exam. Because it was so painful, the physician helped and then just lifted my shirt to utilize her stethoscope. What was she listening for, I wondered. Would my rib speak to her? Can she hear whether or not a bone is broken? I guess not because she sent me down to have x-rays made of my chest.
Chest x-rays always freak me out because that was one of the preliminary things I had to have done before my cancer surgeries. They want to make sure that the cancer has not spread into the chest cavity before performing surgery. I suppose this may be because compromised lungs could be problematic when receiving anesthesia. Thus, chest x-rays always remind me of cancer. Actually, most medical interactions remind me of cancer.
Before I left to have the chest x-ray made, the doctor explained to me that "once you get the x-ray, come right back up here and I will see you right away to discuss the results."
I went down to the second floor where x-rays are made and followed the directions that were given to me. I hate having chest x-rays. Do I have any cancer in my chest cavity?
I went back upstairs to the fifth floor and checked back in with the receptionist. She told me to have a seat and that the doctor would be right with me. I sat down and proceeded to wait for over forty-five minutes. After about ten minutes, I began to become anxious and frightened. "She said she'd see me right away," I thought. I immediately went to the forbidden zone of what might be taking so much time. I convinced myself much too easily that there was a problem and that she was consulting with another physician about it. What might be the problem, I wonder momentarily before determining that they had found cancer on the x-ray. I remembered that my oncologist told me that in some women, there is a connection between uterine cancer and breast cancer. They found something in my breast. I just knew it and became convinced that they were consulting about what to do and how to tell me. I spent the rest of my wait time trying to determine how I would handle this. I thought, "well, I am just going to be one of those people (many of whom are my colleagues and friends from my cancer support group at the Wellness Community and most of whom have since passed away from the cancer) who lives out my time battling cancer. I try to imagine how I might deal with this; what will I do? How can I possibly tell people that I have cancer again? This fantasy went far too deep and I found myself planning stoicism, fighting the urge to run out of the waiting room and practicing myself as a cancer patient again. I completely lost it and was so far inside my head that I nearly jumped out of my skin when the nurse called me back.
I went with the nurse back to the examination room. My doctor passed by on her way to finish up with another patient, smiled at me and said, "I'll be right with you."
Immediately I realized how over the top I was with fear. I really have been thinking that I am much better with my cancer anxiety, but this was almost equivalent to my experiences between the two surgeries when everything was so uncertain (including my prognosis). The doctor came in and reported that she could not see a fracture, but that my rib was badly bruised. She wrote me a prescription for painkillers and said she was going to have the radiologist read the x-ray just to be sure. I thanked her and I left. I lost the rest of the day. I was a mess, I could not focus and I was exhausted from the anxiety. This is what happens when I have to go to my oncologist for my cancer checks.
I was looking at my iPhone calendar on Wednesday in order to schedule a shoot and realized that my appointment with my oncologist is this month. I wonder if I will ever be done with this or if it will always be there in my head, awaiting an opportunity to come to the front and rob me of days in my life. I guess the good news is that after this oncology appointment, I only have one more in six months and then I switch to yearly checks. I will have made it to the five year mark. That's something.