Apologies to anyone who may be tuning in, the radio silence is sheerly from being at a loss for words as we continue to wait. (Every time I add a post, I think, is anyone out there? LOL. I actually have no clue, because I haven't even figured out this website yet and I don't get stats and there isn't a "subscribe" option, apparently. You can, however, leave an X in the comment box, though, so I know I'm not alone.) Alas, I shall keep typing updates for the time being.
I was disappointed that the CT scan didn't give us the 2 mm of growth in the largest aneurysm so we could get the repair ball rolling. We had an appointment with his cardiologist, who seems fine, but I definitely have not gotten to a "confidence" level with him. He's polite but came off as in a hurry and somewhat blase'. We spent most of the appointment with the medical assistant, who seemed mildly annoyed by my questions and might have looked at me like, "who brought the nag?" (Just my inner pretend dialogue). He peppered Steve with questions. As expected, he was gathering all the information about symptoms, events, etc. What we don't think the young man realized was that after he left the room, about 10 minutes later he came back and paused outside the door, with Dr. P. He proceeded to give a verbal report, which we could very clearly hear because he was stage whispering. It was funny to us. "Do you think he knows we can hear them and should we tell him?", I whisper whispered.
Back in the old days, a doctor would come in, holding your chart, after they'd maybe scanned it quietly outside the door. We fully believed they had already previously studied the chart in depth. :) Now they just have the MAs do that, they don't even have to look at a chart unless they really want to, which could be pretty efficient for them, I guess. How we know we're getting old is how often we compare how things are done now to "back when I was young"...doctors seemed to know who you are and have seemed to have deep knowledge of your health history instead of getting a Cliff Notes narration just before they walk in. I don't intend to generalize; these observations are sort of entertaining and we're trying to have a little fun where we can. ;) The lesson: make sure you have a dedicated and studious MA, if possible. I don't think we get to choose those.
Anyway, we learned the woman who called Steven to schedule the appointment with Dr. P. after the CT, should have not really mentioned "pulmonary hypertension" as, technically it has not been diagnosed, a pulmonologist is who makes that call. (Hence, nice-ish boy's alleged irritation when I asked him about it). Apparently, it just looks like it "could be" that and there is an enlargement that's been referred to as a pulmonary aneurysm, along with ground glass artifacts in his lungs that the radiologist reported could be indicative of interstitial lung disease. Neither of these things are terms you want mentioned as potential diagnoses... truly. They are bad. Very bad.
Which leads us to his next addition to the medical "team", a pulmonologist. Who, by the way, seem also to be overworked and we learned don't do a lot of office hours because they are in the ICU most days. The girl on the phone was very kind, but said scheduling is difficult. We've got him on the "move up" list if there's a cancellation, so we'll see if we can get him in before October, with the doctor who wasn't our first choice. They said that doctor doesn't have his schedule in, so we have to keep calling back. I've researched our options here and one has more extensive training and has written over a dozen published medical journal papers, so he's the guy I'd like on Steve 's case. I'll keep trying. He also did his residency at Cleveland Clinic and is a chess master/champion, which is irrelevant, but very cool. He appears to REALLY like pulmonology, which makes me REALLY like him.
My boss/co-owner in our business (the patient) was on me yesterday, for disrupting work in the afternoon to get on the phone with the pulmonologist's office, on hold for 18 minutes. (More evidence of the overworked/understaffed medical specialty office., as we've previously discussed.) Our first opportunity with no customers was spent listening to the super upbeat hold music that turns into a kind of nails on chalkboard after about 11 minutes. At first, we danced around to the happy tune, then tried to outquip each other to recorded statements like, "Did you know, you can schedule your appoints online on MyChart..." (NO, you actually can't), then we joked about maybe we should see if anyone in Eugene has openings. So, then the boss, 15 minutes in, teased, "Are you going to do any work today?" I said, "I am. My first job is keeping you alive!" Touche'.
So...we wait. Waiting stinks. I wanted to have my man's heart fixed by now. We have far more questions than answers, as often is the case with discovering medical issues. Getting old really is a privilege, as some say, and we're grateful, although, 50's isn't really "old" to us anymore. That line keeps moving. Nineties...now that's old. We'll just keep collecting our medical problems in an imaginary basket, combating the issues we can control, and deal with the uncontrollable the best we can. Meanwhile, we'll keep a keen awareness to remain thankful for ALL the body parts that are properly working.
That's all I've got. Except for, HOW is it AUGUST already? Let's make the most of this last month of summer!
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