Doctor's Appointments

I spent the entire morning on Tuesday in the hospital.
Dr. Liu told me the result of the imaging test we did we while back indicated that my left fallopian tube looks normal, but for some reason, we couldn't see the part closest to the ovary where the tube fans out. We could speculate why this is, but the doctor said the easiest way to find out for sure is to have an endoscopy surgery.

*snap*
Surgery. The soft music at the waiting area in the OR. The noise of chattering. Ward 55. Peachy curtains. A pile of saline. The smell of disinfectant. Bottles of chemo.
*snap*

I swallowed to settle my stomach. It tasted bitter. I turned to look at the doctor.
The doctor was facing the computer screen with the image of my left fallopian tube on. His right hand was holding the mouse but it wasn't moving. He was facing away from me and he wasn't doing anything. I leaned closer and realized he was dozing off!

"Well, no offense," I said it as gently as I could, almost as if I didn't want to wake him. " but you look really tired today. I don't know if I should take your advice and hop on the surgery table right now." I tried to joke, but it got lost somewhere in the cloud of sleepiness. The doctor's eyes slowly opened. He turned to face me but his eyes didn't meet mine. "I probably wouldn't want me to operate on myself today either," he took in a deep breath, completely gave up on trying to joke around.

"Could you print out the results? I need to talk to Bill about this." One of us had to get this meeting going. "YES," the doctor's torso shot straight up, eyes wide open. He started moving the mouse around: Click, enlarging the image. Click, minimizing the image. Click, opening my file. Click, click, click, click, checking all the CA-125 results. Click, minimizing my file. Click, opening up the image. Click, click, clicking on every icon he could see. In no time, the printer at the nurse's desk started screaming and a flow of paper started pouring out of its mouth.

"GO TO ROOM 141 FOR AN ULTRASOUND. THEN GO GET A BLOOD TEST DONE." The doctor shot straight up from his chair, shouted these words out like a rookie soldier, and disappeared into the examine room in the back where another patient was ready for her pep. Me and the nurse both tried very hard not to burst out laughing ('cause we knew he could hear us) as we gathered the pieces of the orders the doctor left behind.

While I waited to get an ultrasound, I went to my appointment with the cardiovascular surgeon.
The waiting area felt completely different from the GYOB wing. It seemed colder and gloomier. Luckily, I didn't have to wait long. The two young interns stared as I walked into the doctor's office. I didn't feel I belonged here either.

The surgeon is a heavy-built, middle-aged man. His eyes looked sharp and alert behind those thick-rim glasses. I thought of Dr. Liu and felt sorry for the guy. My doctor's getting old, and he's definitely over-working.
"What's wrong?" the surgeon asked. I found myself lost for words for a brief moment 'cause nothing's wrong.
"I want to take the catheter out."I can't believe it's real.
"Does Dr. Liu know?" the surgeon asked.
"Yes. He said it's okay." I feel lighter already.
"You don't need to go through any more chemo treatments?" the surgeon double-checked.
"Not that I'm aware of." Smarty-mouth Kate slipped out. He shot me a quick look. I gave him my brightest smile.
"How long have you had it? " the doctor triple-checked, didn't seem impressed by my smile.
"Too long." Oops. "I mean, almost a year. What is the removal procedure?" I tried to get back to being serious.
The doctor coldly explained the procedure. It sounded almost too easy and simple. Very soon I ran out of questions to ask.
"So how's this Friday?" the surgeon was already punching my name into the slot on Friday.

*snap*
The last time a doctor asked me this question was also on a Tuesday. I went into surgery that Friday and I'm still recovering from it.
*snap*

"Friday's not good," a part of me wanted this to be different from the last surgery. "How's next Wednesday for you?" I took the initiative.
The surgeon looked at me for a good moment or two. One of the interns uncomfortably shifted his weight in the chair next to me.
The surgeon looked back at his schedule, "Wednesday's fine. I'll book you down for....."
"10!" I asserted.
Then there came a lot of paperwork: printing out the appointment for surgery, signing the consent forms, issuing a request for X-ray, and prescribing medication for the day of the surgery.

I stood up, ready to head for the ultrasound.
"How do you feel?" the surgeon asked out of the blue.
"About what?"
"Taking the catheter out."
It's not something I can answer in a word or two during a small talk with someone I don't know well. Too much is involved and I haven't even sorted all my emotions out yet.
"How I feel depends on how good you are, doctor." I smiled big. "So you'd better be good."
"That's what those pain killers are for."
Oh! The serious surgeon knows how to joke around too.