Luck.

Yesterday while I was in a meeting at work, a local 614 number called me and left a voicemail.  Out of curiosity, I searched the Google for the phone number and saw that it was Riverside Interventional Radiology.  Once I was out of my meeting, I was able to check my voicemail and found that I needed to call back.  Searching my brain ... I realized that it is almost March and that April 2nd will be the one year anniversary that I had my tumor ablated by Dr. Lee. 

I called back on my lunch break, only to find that his nurse was not at her phone so I left a message. I assume that she wants to schedule my one year follow up.  One year where so much as changed. One year of knowing that I had something terrible inside me and just by chance, someone found that something terrible and burnt it the fuck up before it could move into my lungs or my brain. 

I still have my hair, and I still have my kidneys, and I am still fat and happy.

 Luck. (?)

This morning I awoke to terrible news on my Facebook feed that a dear friend now knows that this disease is inside of her.  And most likely she will have to endure the miserable treatments to save herself.  I hate it.  I hate the dread and uncertainty that anyone who has dealt with this disease feels.

I hate that I feel guilty about being so lucky.  I hate that within the span of a week one local family laid their 13 year old to rest due to this disease, while another faced the terrible truth that their young boy, who hasn't even had his first day in Kindergarten yet, has relapsed and will again have to fight Neuroblastoma.

I say all of this to say: be thankful.  Be aware of your body.  Don't let some doctor blow you off if you don't feel right.  Savor the simple, silly moments in your life. Do what brings you pleasure. 

Scarlet letter

So back to the last time I saw my kidney doctor (yes, I realize that was in December, and it is now February ... so what?)

So, I have a bunch of little stones that should pass on their own.  Good that they are small, bad because they still have to pass, which hurts no matter how small they are.

I had asked the kidney doctor for a refill of Percoset, so that when I had pain from passing said kidney stones I would not have to go to the ER and pay a $150 copay and most likely be exposed to unnecessary CT Scan radiation.  

This is what he tells me:  "I was going to write a refill for you but I see that you had a prescription written in October for Percoset from another doctor.  The OARRS system would not let me write you a prescription, and I won't be able to for 6 months now".

And then it hit me ... Dr. Brad (my family doctor) had written me a script for 15 (15!) 5mg Percosets, because I was not due to see the kidney guy until the end of the year.  I still had some left, and so I brought the bottle out of my purse and explained that my family doctor had given me a script for rescue pain relief until I saw him.  That he had written it for only 15 pills and I still had many left.

Kidney doctor was not impressed that I had evidence of me not being a drug addict and/or dealer.  He again stated that it had flagged me and he would not be able to write a prescription for 6 months.  At this point I started to lose my shit, because I saw that this was going to end poorly.  

So, I asked him, if I ask my family doctor for a script in a couple months because I am out and you can't write one for 6 months ... does that mean that you can't write it for 6 months from the original date in October or I start a new 6 month cycle?

Here's the thing:  I have never asked for pain meds early, or asked for pain meds when I did not have a current  x-ray/CT scan without plain evidence of stones.  I have the utmost respect for opiate painkillers and their addictive properties.  I don't abuse them because I know that I will be in pain, and I want for them to work.  

But apparently I now have a scarlet letter attached to my name in the eyes of the State of Ohio.