November 4, 2003
Today is my post-op appointment with the surgeon who performed the arthroscopy on my left knee. I sign in and wait. My knee is good; after this visit I shouldn’t have to see this particular doctor again. As the nurse calls my name, I get up and follow her to the exam room. I have the damn routine down; I sit and wait for the doctor. Don’t be too long doc, I don’t do well alone.
Five minutes pass, I’m trying not to think. Another five minutes pass. Please doctor, don’t leave me here alone. Oh shit, I can’t do it. The tears start flowing. Now I’m sad and mad at the same time. For Christ sake, next they’ll be sending me to a god damn shrink. Stop crying NOW. Wipe your face God damn it.
I hear a knock. Thank God.
The surgeon asks me how my knee feels. I tell him it feels good. He examines my knee and smiles, proud of his work. He tells me it does look good. He proceeds to go over my options of therapy. He wants to see me back in 4-6 weeks for a follow-up visit. Jesus, I can’t go to anymore doctor visits. He asks if I have any questions or concerns.
“Doctor, I was diagnosed yesterday with leukemia,” I rattled the words quickly.
He offered his condolences and asked if I’m following up with my physician for treatment.
“Yes, I am doctor,” I answer sure of myself.
The doctor wishes me good luck with my treatment and said he will see me on my follow-up appointment. He didn’t even ask what kind of leukemia I have. What an asshole.
Like a good little soldier, I make my follow-up appointment at the front desk before I leave.
I get in my truck and start crying. It’s okay, I’m alone.
Rich is coming over tonight and all three of us will talk. This week my mother, Rich, Bob, and I spent a lot of time reading about CML on-line.