Page 11 of Love Undecided
Chapter 6
Kat
I have an afternoon appointment with my oncologist to check-in and get a full body scan. The building I’m going to is a smaller one in a much larger complex. They've tried hard to make theCurtis Cancer Centerlook more like a resort than a medical complex. Trees and grass line the paths to the buildings, and a large waterfall hides the entrance. There's even a Koi pond in the lobby.
The atmosphere is always quiet. As though all the cancer-free inhabitants are continually paying homage to those who are dying. I hate the way my slutty stiletto boots sound on the slate floor, trying to push through the silence and create a constant agitation.
Upstairs is carpeted, dulling the noise from my shoes and thus the noise in my head. I find myself calming as I change into my hospital gown and slippers. The MRI and the CT scan are both just routine when you’ve had cancer recur as many times as I have they just become a part of life. I’m not concerned though, I feel good.
The MRI machine doesn’t even scare me as much any longer. Sometimes I even drift off for a few seconds in it, the insanely loud knocking noise becoming more of a relaxing white noise in the background as opposed to raising my anxiety levels.
If you had asked me five years ago if I would ever be comfortable going to the doctor, for anything, I would have said no. It was all I could do to force myself to get my annual check-up and gynecological exam. When I was young, I was that child who would throw such a tantrum when getting a shot, they would have to restrain me in a straight-jacket type device so that I wouldn’t be able to hit the nurses or the doctor when they administered it. More than once, I’d contaminated the needle because my flailing caused it to fall to the floor or stick in the wall.
Now, sticking me with shit is like second nature. And being locked up in confining little scanning machines that make lots of noise is a normal happenstance.
I get through my appointment, blood draws, and scans relatively quickly and change to leave. The nurse stops me and says my oncologist wants to see me for a moment in her office. I walk back toward the office and knock lightly on her closed door.
“Come in,” I hear through the door.
I go in and she motions for me to take a seat. “How are you doing lately, Kat?” she asks.
“Good. I feel good. A little tired, some muscle soreness, and a little emotional, but that’s to be expected, right?”
“Any tenderness in your breasts?”
“Franken-boob is still sore at times,” I say. “But Zombie-tit is good.” She laughs at my response.
I named my tits after a particularly brutal lumpectomy. Franken-boob because of the scar and resulting hollow from the lumpectomy. And Zombie-tit because of the fat and tissue she donated to Franken-boob to try and fill her back up.
“And you aren’t working, correct?” she asks.
“No, I took a leave of absence and my partner is slowly buying my share of the law practice from me. I am doing some consulting for the police department, I’ve helped with a few cases.”
“How many hours a month are you doing that?”
“A month? It’s kind of more like how many hours a day right now. I had a really busy day today, and I don’t see that letting up. I think that’s why I’m feeling off.”
“Don’t overdo it, Katarina,” she says.
“I’m not. I won’t.”
“Okay, well, your estrogen levels are not where we would like them to be. I’m having them run a full panel from today’s draw and we should have the results from the scans in a few days. I’ll have them update you on both at the same time.”
“Them?” I ask.
“I’ll be out of town for the next couple weeks,” she says. “So I have another doctor covering for me. He will be the one to contact you with the scan results and the blood test results. How are you on your meds?”
“All good, no worries there,” I tell her with a smile, thinking of my little stockpile of Valium and Oxycontin.
“Great. Are you seeing your therapist regularly?” she asks.
“I have an appointment tomorrow morning.”
“Perfect,” she says. “Make an appointment to come in and see me in three weeks, and you and I can go over your scans and results together then as well.”
I thank her and am out the door. My phone pings with a text as I’m getting into my car. It’s another text from Brad.
Brad: How’d the appointment go? All okay?
