Dec. 12, 2006 - 6:10 p.m.

Smear Campaign

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It's really strange being away from my diary for reasons other than sloth or drink. But this time I have one that I suppose would fall into the "Legitimate Excuse" category.

Had a big health scare in Dangerland some weeks back. Not me, but NewWifey(tm). While on a walking tour of Memphis during our vacation, she keeled over groaning in agony right in the middle of Beale Street. She toughed it out (read: "too stubborn as usual to take my advice") and decided not to get medical attention. She sat on the curb for an hour in 107 degree Memphis swamp heat, then hopped up and we continued to our 47th BBQ joint of the trip (the Rendezvous - highly recommended...if you can find it).

Memphis was only a day trip stopover on our drive to her folks' place in Norfork, Arkansas. We continued on our way there the next day, stayed a week, then took three days to drive back (Day 2 being wholey devoted to a tour of Bourbon distilleries, woo ho*hic*ooo!).

After that first episode she didn't utter a peep about pain the rest of the trip. I figured the Memphis episode was just one of those inexorable random acts of women's plumbing I have no interest in hearing about.

But when we got back I sure heard about it. Turns out that NewWifey(tm) was in severe discomfort the entire rest of the trip, but she didn't let it show in case it might ruin the vacation. Noble? Stupid? You decide.

NewWifey(tm), being NewWifey(tm), did NOT want to go to the doctor to see about a cure, however.

Damn these hearty stock Midwesterners!

But finally, after a week of unrelenting abdominal spasming, her resolve crumbled and she agreed to call the lady GP down the road.

The GP ran a bunch of tests, scans, and incantations over a dead toad.

The toad result was definitive: NewWifey(tm) ruptured an ovary, and it was hemorrhaging into her body cavity non-stop. And the OTHER ovary showed a growing mass.

Doc: "NewWifey(tm), when was the last time you had a Pap Smear?"

NewWifey(tm): "......8 years ago."

Ziiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiip! Right to the operating theater.

Just before wheeling her through the swinging doors, the doctor told me I could kiss her for luck. After the perfunctory peck I whispered in her ear, "Try not to fart." She immediately burst out laughing and tried to punch me, but by then the orderly had started the gurney rolling and she missed. The swinging doors swinged, there was a brief glimpse of nurses in panda bear scrubs standing around a white table lit by big blue lights, and then she was gone.

Inside, they yanked one ovary+mass and stemmed the tide of blood flowing from the other. D&C'd the womb thingy. The mass got sliced off and Fed-Ex'd (Ground - that's all my crummy insurance would pay for) to a path lab for analysis.

There followed a very VERY tense week at Dangerhouse as we waited on the results from the Pathology Lab regarding the cancer status of said mass. In order to keep her spirits up, NewWifey(tm) insisted I subject her to a barrage of cancer jokes. She knew if I was too depressed to make jokes about something, I must be seriously depressed. And I'd only be seriously depressed if I knew she had cancer. So I had to make jokes to prove to her that everything was ok.

Chick logic. Sheesh.

I rose to the occasion like a champ though. Check this out:

How many women with ovarian cancer does it take to change a lightbulb?
Answer: None - they're all dead.

That - THAT - was her absolute favorite among a crowded field of equally tasteless contenders.

So we waited, and joked, and waited, and didn't eat a whole lot for a week. (Well, I still ate a lot. But not when she could see. I wanted her to think I was at least a little anxious, after all.)

But....

HOORAY!

The path lab dead-toad-test came back negative! It was just a regular ol' benign mass. Maybe just a wad of chewing gum someone had thoughtlessly tossed there instead of in an approved trash receptacle. That happens, you know.

Shit. Now I'm gonna have to buy a Christmas present. Ah well, better luck next time, right?

There was much rejoicing and making of the sex. Or as much making of the sex as NewWifey(tm)'s laproscopy stitches could stand. Thank god for alternate orifices.

The fete lasted about two weeks, until:

"Honey....the pain is back."

NewWifey(tm)'s pain meter has to be ramped to "11" before she acknowledges feeling it, so I knew she wasn't just being a girly-girl and griping about her scar itching or something.

Back to the gyn surgeon we go.

The gyn surgeon (who refused to let me sniff his fingers after the operation, but that's another post....) says to NewWifey(tm), "You know, I had a very strong suspicion that your initial complaint was not caused by your ovaries. The mass was too small, and the hemorrhaging too slight, to produce the intensity you were presenting. My gut feeling is that you may have a problem with your colon."

Gee doc, nice of you to let us know that BEFORE we both lost a cumulative 28 1/2 pounds of nervous sweat Googling images of chemo patients.

Ok, ok, the girl plumbing had to be fixed regardless. But still.

Back to the lady GP we go.

"Hmmmm. I think the surgeon is on to something. I'll tell you what, lets get you to an asshole doctor!" (She actually said "proctologist", but I don't cotton to them fancy titles.)

So now....we wait. An appointment with a verry verrrry small camera at the tip of a verry verrrry long, flexible shaft awaits NewWifey(tm)'s posterior in the next few days. I know - first hand - that she can handle it. I just hope they warm it first and play some Barry Manilow in the background.

After that....we wait again for the results.

The GP doc has already warned us that colon cancer can't be ruled out. Yes, the scope hasn't even been rammed home yet. And no tests have been done. And nothing has been pulled out and sent to a path lab yet. They haven't even gotten the toad ready.

She just wants to be able to say "I told to be prepared for the worst" should it come to that.

I kinda miss the old days where the bliss of ignorance was considered Good Medicine.

So now here we sit again, girded by knowledge that The Worst Case Scenario might still be in NewWifey(s) immediate future.

Anyone know any good colon cancer jokes? Besides the lightbulb one? I'm running out of material......

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Ciao, kids. I'll be back to more regular programming here once my tachycardia simmers down.

Don't forget to get a Pap Smear while I'm gone. Even you guys. Can't be too careful, you know.

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