How I got here from there. Part 2

After being sent home with the order to "tap" the fluid off my lung I was miserable. I could barely breathe. Walking a few steps had me huffing and puffing and feeling like I was going to drop over. I called and begged to get in sooner and was slipped into a cancellation a few days later.

Linda drove me to the appointment; we took my son with us. I didn't really know what I was going to encounter. I had been told it was a pretty easy procedure and that I would have immediate relief. I was banking on that. I need relief now.

Dr. Abulla is a short, brash sort of individual. He moves very fast in a frenetic manner doing about 5 things at once. His office is oddly set up with a computer in the center of a hallway and exam rooms up and down the hall. He flits about from room to room shouting directions to his nurses as he goes from patient to patient or to the computer. Often he does not shut the door to the exam rooms leaving you there hanging in whatever state he left you in while he hastily goes about whatever he does. It's kind of like being at the Jiffy Lube.

He took me into his office for a consultation. He rapid fired questions at me about my symptoms. Sort of scanned the copies of x-rays I had taken and then moved me into an office for the "tap". So far, so good. The tap itself wasn't that painful, no big deal really. He was more nervous that I was... afraid I was going to cough. He kept saying "if think you are going to cough tell me and I'm out of here." I was trying to stay in my comfortable happy place, relaxed and letting it go. He was nuts.

He drained more than a liter off my lung when he stopped. He seemed floored. First he showed it to me and said "drink a lot of beer?" because it looked just like beer. A great big quart sized bottle of beer. I laughed—because he expected it—and said "um, no…" He said it looked pretty innocent to him but he would send it out for some tests. And then he started asking around about other things; did I have any other symptoms that were odd? I told him that my breast on that same side was a little swollen; like it would be right before my period would start, but I didn't think it was a big deal. He asked if he could do a breast exam and set forth poking around on my breasts.

He turned pale. The color drained from his face to a ghostly white. He plopped down on his chair and said, "Londy, I think you have really bad breast cancer." I said, “nah, they always do this... they swell up before my period and then go back down, and besides there isn't a lump.” He said, “I think it is bad breast cancer and it has spread to your lung and that’s why there is this fluid.” I still didn't believe him. He asked if he could schedule a mammogram and some other appointments for me to check it out and I said "of course," still thinking he was totally nuts.

Then I got ready to leave and joined Linda and my son in the lobby. Linda grabbed my purse so I didn't have to carry it and went to get the car. I couldn't react to what he had said in front of my son. I didn't know how to react... ??? I got a few feet down the corridor when the coughing fit started. I began to cough so badly I could barely stumble down the hall. I had to turn around with my son and go back to Dr. Abudulla's office.

The coughing was so violent I couldn't speak. They pulled me back into the room for x-rays to make sure nothing bad had occurred during the "tap". He let me cough and cough. Finally he told me that it was expected that I would cough for about 20 minutes or so... he offered me a shot of morphine but then backed out because he said he thought I was driving myself. I was wondering why this guy let me leave to drive home with a child without warning me I would cough like this? huh? None of this helped his credibility with me and made him even less believable.

After about half an hour the cough calmed down enough for me to explain to the nurse that I had to somehow find Linda. She suggested putting me in a wheelchair and going down to the entrance to find her. The nurse pushed me and my son through the hallways in search of Linda, and I learned a good lesson—never let someone take off with your cell phone. And of course Linda's cell phone number was stored—you guessed it—in my cell phone. We finally found her, surrounded by security guards that she was enrolling in a search for me.

I managed to get home and made a dash for the bottle of Lortab that kind Dr. Brown had offered to call in for me a couple of days ago even though I didn't know why, but hey, when a Doc offers them you get them right? Now I knew why. The Lortab calmed the cough and I was able to settle down some, but I still wasn't breathing much better. The instant relief I expected wasn't there. I think I still had some pneumonia or virus of something. I felt sick. Plus, now I had a couple of days to wait while Dr. Abdulla got the results of the tests on the fluid he extracted... cancer? No freakin' way... I did not believe that was possible in any way. Had to be wrong. Just had to be wrong.