A-Team Leader Momma Christine wasn't available, since she had out of town guests. From Japan. When Momma Christine was Teenage Christine, her family hosted a Teenage Exchange Student from Japan, and now that lady was a Momma and she was traveling with her family to reunite, in person, with her American Host Family. Hence, Momma Christine was unavailable.
A-Team Leader Momma Bonnie was unavailable because her family had returned the day before from an extended road trip. I chose to not ask because it just didn't seem like the right thing to me. There was a no in me. And I know she would've taken my kids, had I asked, and it's totally cool, because seriously, I made the best decision I could for all 8 of us, Sister. It's all good.
A-Team Leader Momma Stacie? Working. I'm sure she was presenting some data sets at multiple meetings with administrators and physicians, because that's what she does. She's a Bad Ass Epidemiologist and dealing with data is her super power. So, in the interest of protecting public health, Stacie was not an option. Even though she's a good person because on March 20, 2015, the day of my lumpectomy, she was at our home before 6 am for the first round of Boy Duty. But, for this day trip to the city, I decided that it would be best for my family to be together.
So, Wednesday August 2, 2017, all four of us went. To Seattle, only a 90-ish minute car ride and a wait for the ferry, and a 30-ish minute ferry ride, and navigating the streets of a major city. No biggie. It was for the post-op with the Lady ENT, which was really a no-op, since she didn't really operate. We had to check-in at 10:30 am, the appointment was on a Wednesday in the summer, so traffic shouldn't be too bad. We'll have to get up early. Really early. What's the ferry schedule? Because we'll have to arrive two days before sailing, because summer in the Pacific Northwest means backups.
But Randy has super limited voice. And the boys are...the boys.... What the fuck am I thinking?
Oh! I'll get an audio book from the library. I've been wanting to read Wonder to the boys but I am unable to find my copy. Did I loan it to someone in book club? Or did I borrow it? Jesus I need that app that keeps track of my personal library. I don't have time to scan all of our books though. September is coming, maybe I'll find the time when school starts...? I think I borrowed someone's copy. But I returned it. That I know. Otherwise the book would be in my house. Ha. I have the best deductive reasoning skills, ever.
Abby will be fine. She can hold it. She can skip lunch. But just to be safe, Stace has keys and can get in, so she can be on standby for the four-legged dog-child. Summer traffic can mean a later than planned on ferry. Or a bridge opening. So, just in case, Stacie's got Abby if need be.
Randy and talked about it, and below is the jist of our conversation. Well, really I talked, and he whispered, even though he wasn't really supposed to, as directed by the Lady ENT. He's a rule breaker, though, you guys.
Me: Nope. You're not going alone. You don't get to make that choice because the Lady ENT is going to do do some kinda procedure where she's gonna laser warts off your throat and you don't know if she's gonna give you a little sedative or something to help you relax and make it easier to get the goddamned warts off your vocal cords.
Him: silence, nods once.
Me: Second, what if the pathology report is cancer. Again. Do you really want to get that news ALONE? Because I don't want you to get that news alone.
Him: silence, nods once.
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| The smoke-filled sky on our incredibly early drive to Seattle Aug 2017 |
Him: (whisper) fine. What about the boys?
Me: I's cast is off, so they will be capable of waiting in the waiting room with
Him: (whisper) Ok. Thanks for thinking this through and planning. I love you.
Me: I know. And I love you too, dude. And you're welcome. I don't have a Master's Degree in Health Education for nothing, you guys.
My husband drove like Batman, because that's what he does. And we listened to "Wonder" on CD, which was brilliantly done. We got to the ferry with plenty of time to spare.
 |
| Plugged in, complete with headphones, for two hours |
Laser.
In his throat.
Again.
Fuck me. Can this stop? Because seriously, I'm starting to crack a little under all the Wonder Woman pressure. I'm not her. She's a God. I'm a mortal adult woman who has found herself in incomprehensible, extremely stressful, mind-blowing, situations in a very short time frame, that have changed the way I live and breathe. I have been forced to become proficient in dealing with multiple life-threatening health issues for three of my four immediate family members, including my oldest son, myself, and my husband.
I suppose this is why I have two degrees in Community Health Education. I know it's my super power; what I've spent years in college and grad school studying and teaching: Health. I'm highly trained in the art of Health Communication and I really do know when to be diplomatic and and how to effectively speak with individuals who are highly trained in their professions, including but not limited to:
- Pediatric Neurologists
- Neurodevelopmental Psychologists
- ABA Therapists
- Pediatric Epileptologists
- Pediatric Otolaryngologists (ENT)
- Pediatric Sleep Specialists
- Speech Therapists
- Physical Therapists
- Occupational Therapists
- General Surgeons
- Medical Oncologists (Chemo Doc)
- Radiation Oncologists (you're not alone; I didn't know there were different types of cancer docs until I was diagnosed, either)
- Certified Lymphedema Therapists (because you don't EVEN want lymphedema in your boob after you have a lumpectomy)
- Otolaryngologists with specialties of head and neck cancers as well as voice disorders
- Orthopedic Surgeons
As a patient, parent, wife, and caregiver, I know when to advocate, and even push, for myself and my family to receive the adequate health care we deserve. And I know when to back off...but only a bit. I'm academically and professionally trained to research what current scientific research and data show regarding the multiple health issues my family faces. I know I'm only one click away from ending up at ScareTheHellOuttaMe.com and I do my best to avoid that.
And I know when to drop F-bombs; I'm really good at that: FUCK Universe, stop dropping so much fucking shit on me and my family! Please. For the love of all that is fucking holy. Just fucking stop, motherfuckers! See? I'm pretty good at the use of the word fuck. I know how to employ it as an interjection and a noun. Sometimes I unpack it as an adjective.
And, no, I don't think I've ever said "fuck" to a practitioner. Except those two separate times I gave birth to each of my lovely little boy babes. I'm sure I said fuck at least once during each of those situations. Laboring women get a free fuckin' pass on that. And my doc is awesome and didn't bat a fuckin' eye.
But ain't no amount of schooling gonna teach a person how to best manage the cards I've been dealt. There is no class called "how to effectively raise your oldest child with life-threatening neurological disorders while you homeschool him and do drug trials to stop his seizures, WHILE you go through breast cancer surgery, chemo, and radiation, AND THEN your husband is diagnosed with HPV caused tonsil cancer less than six months after you finish your treatment for breast cancer, and let's throw a broken arm on the younger son, just for the sake of it" because who in their right fuckin' mind would sign up for that shit storm?
I guess now I know why some of my professors in college and grad school had us use the book they wrote: not because they were egocentric jackasses, but because they had knowledge to impart. So I'm imparting my knowledge via blogging.
Annnyyywaaayyy...
Back in the prep room, they had slathered cotton balls with some type of bullshit numbing agent and stuck those cotton balls up my husband's nose. They also sprayed some serious numbing stuff up his nose and it slid down his throat...or maybe they sprayed it directly into his throat through his mouth...? I don't know exactly what was sprayed where...but they numbed the shit out of his nose and throat because LASERS were coming at him.
We went into another room, and were given some very fancy orange tinted glasses to put on over our eyeglasses, like the cool shades senior people wear, because the laser she was going to be firing onto my husband's vocal cords could really fuck up your eye sight. I don't know. I didn't ask. But I did put my glasses on and I did occasionally steal a glance at the monitor that the camera was attached to and I also sat in the corner like a good wife. I may have even crossed my legs at the ankles, like the fuckin' lady that I am.
So the Lady ENT came in. And the Speech Therapist. And the Laser Guy, who literally takes this big ass machine around the hospital to different clinics and helps get it set up. And the medical transcriptionist, because that woman was recording everything that the Lady ENT said and did. Standard. Who the hell else is going to take notes? I mean, that's usually my job, but nope, not today. Today I'm the one responsible for transporting my family home.
Because at this point, my husband is so numb and the Lady ENT has got scope up his nose and down his throat and I don't know if the laser was attached to that but she turns the laser on by stepping on a pedal like it's a goddamn sewing machine, and the laser makes a noise and goddamnit technology is so cool this better work, please Jesus, let the laser fuckin' work and let the warts be burned off. For reals.
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| The Lady ENT working the laser, my husband, and the Speech Therapist |
Let's just say the room started to smell...burning flesh...she didn't sneeze...and yes, it really took two hours for all of this to go down.
I'd flit in and out of the room to check on the boys and make sure they had not completely destroyed the waiting room. Because my kids are feral monkeys. And sitting in the car for 90 minutes to get to the ferry and then sitting another 2 hours in the waiting room for their father, and then sitting another 90 minutes to get home would make anyone batshit crazy, and my kids are fucking clowns who go batshit crazy if they have to sit for five seconds, so I was deeply worried about what five HOURS of sitting was going to do. Apparently my kids were so well behaved and so quiet playing in
Also, my husband is the toughest motherfucker I've ever known. Because I just watched him take a tube the same width as a pencil, up his nose, then it went down his throat, and he allowed the Lady ENT to use a laser on his vocal cords to remove warts in order to prevent them from growing and possibly developing cancer again. He said that at one point, he could feel it being burned off, but that he knew she was nearly done and he just wanted to finish, so he didn't speak up. I get it. Not that he could speak up, because, duh...but he didn't notify her that he could feel it. And, again, I get it...but, dude....
The Lady ENT finished lasering off the warts, and then we had to get the fuck outta there, because it had been two fucking hours...and I was beyond the point that I needed to eat. I asked the front office staff for a ferry pass, because by this point, well after lunchtime, none of us had the ability to wait for what would probably be a couple of hours in line for the ferry. And, no, I'm not driving around through Tacoma. Fuck that.
Since providing medical passes for the ferry is not something that her office usually does, they had to scramble, and it took a lot longer than anticipated. Fortunately for all four of us, they got their shenanigans together and made it happen, given our situation, they were as helpful they could be. Thank the goddesses for compassionate physicians providing direction to their support staff. We loaded up and headed to the ferry dock; I drove, because my husband was not capable. I think the boys ate lunch in the waiting room...? I know I packed lunch, and I know they ate, because their lunchboxes were empty. There was no food stuck to the waiting room wall, so I presume their tummies were full. Let's go, dudes! We got a boat to catch!
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| After a full day of sitting in the car, and in the waiting room, we're finally heading home to the Peninsula. Run, boys...run. |
The boys and I got out, because we all needed to move our bodies and use the potty. Because we go when we get the chance. My husband has a bladder of steel but didn't get out of the car until we got all the way home; I know he slept on and off and I'm so thankful I used my super powers to be there with him.
And, thank the goddesses for whoever made the decision to put family bathrooms on those boats, because my Family Circus uses them. Not that it saves my sanity to have my boys watch me pee, because they think it's weird that I squat over a potty and the less things I can fucking touch in a public fucking bathroom, the better, right? This includes the paper that is supposed to be for my protection. No. I'll squat. Work on my glutes, yo. I always go last, and remind each of them to not flush, because the toilet's too goddamn loud and everyone has sensitive hearing. No my boys don't pee at the same time to save everyone's sanity. Don't even get me started about that bullshit.
Please don't wash your hands. I have
OH for fuck's sake! Don't touch the goddamn faucet! But it saves my sanity to not leave my boys alone on a ferry.
WHY DID YOU TURN THE HAND DRYER ON?! JESUS IT'S LOUDER THAN THE TOILET!!! We all make choices that are best for us.
NO! I'LL OPEN THE DOOR WITH MY SLEEVE!!! DON'T TOUCH ANYTHING!!!
The boys and I spill out of the family bathroom and begin to walk around the ferry for a while, waving goodbye to the city, looking forward to docking at Bainbridge Island. We are always on the look out for Orca, but instead see cargo ships and sailboats and, of course, the ferry headed to the city, which always causes my older son to say, "Like 'Yellow Submarine'"and I know he's referring to the scene when the Beatles see themselves going backwards in time. So we wave, and he says, "Just like the Beatles, Mom." And I reply, "Yup. Just like Yellow Submarine, kid." It's a comforting exchange for both of us.
We go back to the car, load up, disembark the ferry, and drive a solid 90 minutes before we get home in the summertime traffic. It's been a long and arduous day. I'm thankful we are home safe and sound.
The Lady ENT keeps a close watch on my husband, and he's seen her about every 10 weeks for a check-up. And her "check-up" always involves numbing ointments and sprays, and a scope up the nose and down the throat. It's not easy, but he does it. He usually goes by himself, but when he went earlier this month, on September 10, 2018, which happens to be our older son's birthday...he had the opportunity to be driven by a dear friend who recently relocated from Seattle to Port Angeles. And in spite of the fact that our older son thought Brother Jeff (we're not Mormon, it's just their thing to call each other "Brother") was there to see him on his birthday at 6:15 am, and our day was super stressful and my son and I fought on and off throughout the day...this is the same friend who, when my husband had tonsil surgery two years ago, provided me with the support I needed in the city. So, when my husband and our dear friend went to see the Lady ENT in Seattle last week, it was a much needed opportunity for my husband to have a break from us. He went in alone, because that's what he wanted to do. But Jeff picked Randy up and they went to a fantastic Mexican restaurant. It is incredibly helpful to have a great friend who knows the city well.
The Lady ENT said that Randy's throat looked pretty good, and that the warts on his vocal cords are stable. She compares all of the pictures each time she's seen him, which makes me thankful for the technology that she can just pull that stuff up really quickly. Randy will see her again at the end of November. And in December. Because, just in case she needs to do another laser treatment in the clinic, like she did on August 2, 2017, she'd rather have it on her calendar, because it's easier to cancel the December appointment than it is to find room in her schedule for him...since it's a long two fuckin' hours, and it would be rather pressing. And, she's accommodating his needs in a huge way since she scheduled it right around the time we're done teaching, but before the boys get out for the winter break, so he can spend a little time resting his voice.
Or at least he doesn't have to listen for me yelling at the boys on the ferry.
WALK ON THE BOAT!!! WHAT WOULD THE CAPTAIN SAY!?!?
Thanks for reading. xo
