Yesterday’s visit to the pulmonologist was a precursor to a bronchoscopy, scheduled for next Wednesday. The appointment for the bronchoscopy procedure conflicts with my next chemotherapy treatment. So, today I will attempt to reschedule the chemotherapy. Ideally, I would be assigned a personal/medical scheduler, who could use my availability as shown on my calendar to make appointments on my behalf. The reason my oncologist referred me to the pulmonologist has to do with an (apparent) fistula somewhere in my torso. I did not ask the right questions about the fistula, so I do not know the type. I hope I can safely rule out a colovaginal fistula and an enterocutaneous fistula; there are several others I expect can be dismissed, as well. Next steps in dealing with the fistula will depend on the findings from the bronchoscopy.
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Aside from the conversation about the bronchoscopy, an awkward and slightly uncomfortable conversation took place between the physician and another person (not me) in the examination room. The interaction could have devolved into a knife fight but it was resolved amicably.
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I have grown immensely tired of writing about my ongoing battle with lung cancer. And it’s not just writing about it that is wearing me out; it’s the inevitability of the outcome. If I could completely erase my awareness of cancer until just hours before it declares victory, I would consider the engagement a success.
