I finally went for my pulmonary function test and my cat scan today.
The tech doing my pulmonary function test rocked. She was incredibly kind and informative and after I told her of my year long saga, she assured me that the pulmonologist I am scheduled to see on May 8th will be perfect for my case. She said that while the two other docs in his office are good, they are a bit shy and reserved. My new doc loves to puzzle out hard cases, he's an extrovert, and he will ask me a million questions.
She also told me that since he is the medical director as well, he is always on the look out for people that are not insured or under insured and who feel that their care may have been compromised because of it. While I certainly think things would have gone faster had I never tried to go to the Lake Superior Health Care Center, the fact that my worst symptoms have just started spooling themselves out over the past three months doesn't make me feel that I was necessarily kicked to the curb and ignored, just that no one really knows what to do do with me.
I listened to the tech describe my findings to the student that was training with her and there wasn't any red flags or sudden intakes of breath on her part so I figured my results must not have been too out of line.
Then I went to CT. Where the tech was also very nice. And after I was done, she came back into the room and asked when my next doctor's appointment was. When I told her May 8th, she bit her lower lip and said "Your doctor will have your results in two days, you should give them a call. Don't wait until May 8th."
It wasn't until I was halfway out of the hospital that her words started to sink in...what the hell did they see on my scan? Oh God! Am I pregnant with kittens? AGAIN???
Had I let her words sink in while I was standing in front of her, I could have played that age old medical charades game. It goes something like:
"I know you can't tell me anything for certain but just nod if the results rhyme with 'Haroderma', or 'barkodosis' or 'yancer'."
I've had a few tell tale encounters with radiology technicians where they were unable to keep my diagnosis to themselves. Back when I was seventeen, I had a thyroid tumor that the endocrinologist watched for a year. He did needle biopsies every couple of months but never was able to extract enough cells for a real result. Consequently, I went for two or three thyroid ct scans before they decided to do surgery and just yank my throaty innards out. On my last scan, the technician was very talkative and bubbly and as the exam went on, she became quieter and quieter. Finally, by the end of the exam, she wasn't looking me in the eye. Even as a seventeen year old, I could figure out what was happening. "My tumor's back, right?" I asked her before she could hurry out of the room. She nodded her head and said "Yup."
And then a few years ago I went in for a mammogram and because my boobs were too dense (they match my head you know), they did an ultrasound. They didn't tell me that there was anything on the mammogram, just that they couldn't read it very well. So while I'm having this ultrasound, the tech asks me "Does your doctor think that this mass is just fibrous?"
To which I asked "WHAT MASS????"
And she replied "oops..."
Yeah, I'm gonna bet that she loses at poker too.
So anyway, I'm supposed to call my doctor in two days. I already have a working theory. I think she just discovered that I have two hearts.
Just like Doctor Who.
***Update: I found out a couple of hours after posting this that I do not, in fact, have yancer. Apparantly 'Haroderma', or 'barkodosis' are still up for grabs. Guess what???? More tests!