Today I had to go see my new oncologist. Which wasn’t nerve-wracking as I had already got the ALL CLEAR good news results just after my most recent PET scan a couple of weeks ago. Some of you may recall that a few years ago my then oncologist totally misread my results and told me I only had a year to live. The asshat hadn’t even seen the biopsy report, she just handed out a death sentence. After that I started seeing the sub-director of Oncology, and that was great. I could talk to her, she got things done, and all tests went smoothly. Until she got cancer!
And so last year I was told that after this year’s PET scan I would be transferred back to my original oncology group. Well, okay. Except I walked into the office this afternoon and I swear there were two 14-year-olds sitting there. And their idea was that I should have a CT scan in 6 months and, if that went well, I would continue with annual CT scans. WTF? I told them that last year (after reaching the five year cancer free point) I’d been told I would be having PET-CT scans anually, and they said “BY WHO?”… honestly, they couldn’t have been more unprofessional (caught one of them giggling at me as I was getting up to leave). Anyhow, we have left it that they would get in touch with Nuclear Medicine and sort out the next step of my future scans. Meanwhile, I’d rather be getting the PET-CT scans, wouldn’t you?
So dammit! Years ago I used to run almost every morning. It was the only aerobic exercise that I enjoyed. Then when I reached 40 my lower back and hips gave out, so I had to stop. And so I bought a bicycle and took regular jaunts along the river (though it actually felt like more exercise lugging the thing up and down three long flights of stairs). More recently I’ve taken to riding the recumbent bike at the gym, where I actually get a good sweat going, usually riding for about an hour.
casa azahar 