Got up at 6:45AM (2 hours before I wanted to) so we could get Penny going for the 7:45 arrival of the Tri-Met Lift Bus to St Vincent's hospital ... which we needed to be at, by 9:15.
Penny had used the Lift bus many times when she was having radiation therapy. I never quite got why she would arrive home feeling as if she had been beaten by men with sledgehammers. I do now. It is as if they never found out about that new invention 'springs' that could even out the bumps and ruts of a road.
Not bad enough that they find nearly every bump, but since they're a special purpose carpool for people who cannot reach or ride the regular busses, they go all over hell and back, because they pick up different people on the way and take them to different places on the way, so that you're almost guaranteed to have at least two stops which are unnecessary to your journey, extending it from a 25 minute jaunt to an hour and a half of jolting fun.
We got to the hospital, waited in line where I was told to go, learned that I was given the WRONG checkin place, went to the right place, filled out the SAME DAMN PAPERWORK I FILLED OUT THE PREVIOUS THREE TIMES DESCRIBING ALLERGIES AND MEDICAL CONDITIONS, then waited a mere 3 minutes for the technician to take us to the radiology department. Once there, they had a Hoyer lift, but it wasn't the right one (having only a small-person harness that might be appropriate for a grandmother) so they had to send for a technician who knew how to use the lift, and who could borrow the right one. But, once there, a brief "I'm FLYING!" and she was deposited on the med-bed.
They scanned the area, identifed the odd lump that our oncologist wanted a snip from, and the doctor doing the snippage went in with a needle smaller than ones that I've had used on me. Three samples. (I was babbling like an idiot, I blame fatigue and hunger.)
One significant problem, Penny's blood pressure was measured as VERY low - 67/45 - and though it was remarked that this was very low, nobody thought to say, "Hey, this might be an emergency. Get it looked at."
Later, when I called her regular doctor to ask how much to reduce the blood-pressure meds by ... "OMGWTFGETTHEETOANEMERGENCYROOM!" ... they need to do a stool sample to see if she's bleeding internally, and somehow, the fact that I've done said things multiple times in past isn't Good Enough. Feh.
We called the oncologist and discussed it, and details I won't discuss here because they're gross. He said that we should wait until tomorrow if she wasn't in distress and things seemed normal, and to get the test done THEN if it turns out positive, get her in to be examined. Much easier and she'll have time to recover from that damn Lift - and I'll spring for the cab to get her there if she needs to go in for a further exam.
So we're back home, she's resting, has eaten and had most of her meds, and tomorrow I'll get the test kit and perform The Test and we'll see how things go.
And the biopsy results won't show up until Tuesday at the earliest.
And here's a meme, just because I'm irritated:
hi. cram it.
Who's Your Happy Bunny?
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