Got to the root of the problem
I was working on a document for fieldwork coordination this morning when the phone rang. It was Dr. Shapiro’s secretary, wondering if we could possibly be at the root canal appointment ½ hour early. “Sure!” I enthusiastically responded. “No problem whatsoever.” I was elated. “We’ll be ½ hour closer to Gilly’s eventual relief,” I mused.
I gathered up some papers and hurried Gilly out the door. Grading assignments in waiting rooms is my latest habit; used to be coffee shops. Three blocks down the road I realized that my course outline was sitting in my briefcase at home. “I need my marking scheme,” I shouted (‘rubric’ is actually the new fancy term for ‘marking scheme’; the criteria I use to grade assignments). “How useless to bring all these papers without my necessary tool!” “Go back,” Gilly calmly suggested. I took his advice, and before we knew what hit us, we were back on track. Halfway to our final destination I took a gander at what I was wearing. It was a bleak, damp, cold and rainy day. Passers by were wearing long pants, warm jackets, and many carried umbrellas. I was sporting shorts, flip flop sandals and a t-shirt. Underdressed is an understatement. But I matched! All in red.
This reminds me of working days. I often find that I pack my schedule so tightly I forget to leave room for bathroom breaks and lunch. Today, I was so keen on ½ hour less pain for Gilly, I forgot to manage my own needs. I think I better create a checklist for myself. Good thing I wasn’t still in my nightgown!
Dr. Shapiro took care of Gilly’s root canal without incident. “I didn’t feel a thing,” he claimed as he sauntered out of the building. His mouth was still frozen, but the lopsided grin was prominent. He ate freshly made apple strawberry sauce and sipped on juice, quite content knowing that the deed was done.
I received calls back from the 2 neurologists’ offices (first Rubin, then Wein) this afternoon. At first, Rubin’s secretary booked me for late July. I was unruffled, for some reason, at the notion of such a long delay. When she asked the name of the Dr., I told her Sultanen, and the reason for the consultation. She immediately suggested that June 1st would be a better idea, and I agreed and thanked her. Wein’s office was only able to commit to July 19th, so I opted out. In the end, Dr. Melmed agreed to see us as a special favour to our dear Torontonian friend, and asked that we send in the referral. We are thrilled with the turn of events. He is head of neurology at the Jewish. He treated my dad and Susie, and is touted as a real mench.
Gilly plodded down the hallway towards radiology, and I dashed up to neurology to drop off the same referral I picked up from that very office yesterday. The secretary did a double take when she saw me, and cheerfully complied with my request to place the information where Dr. Melmed would see it. We await the call for the actual date for the appointment, but I am confident the blank will be filled in imminently.
On the way out of his radiation session, the pain was visible on Gilly’s face. Freezing lasts only so long. I attempted to locate a nurse to investigate if it would be O.K. for Gilly to take Advil, given the heavy duty meds he’s on, but he impatiently insisted I leave well enough alone. On the way home I appealed to his senses, pointing out that if he has intense pain during the night, it may be difficult to access an answer to this question. I understand that Gilly’s threshold for pain is high, but now is not the time to risk lack of sleep due to pain, and I’m concerned about proper nutrition as well (Jewish mother that I am). My second plea worked, and he agreed to at least allow me to gather the necessary information. The pharmacist assured me that Advil is safe, and at this stage of the game, Gilly needed no further convincing. An hour later he heartily consumed a full course meal. Phew!!!
Tomorrow, the medical-merry-go-round continues. I will attend my (what technically should be a day long) meeting at Vanier from 9 to 10 A.M. Sheryl and Gilly will meet me at the corner of Victoria and The Boulevard at 10:15 (sounds like a criminal act). Off we’ll zoom (the get away) to see Dr. Kavan at 10:45. Jerry will join us there, and when the rendez-vous draws to a close, I’ll return to Vanier for the remainder of the meeting while they head west (changing guards at Buckingham Palace). At 4:00, Jerry and Gilly will meet me at the Jewish, in hopes that we all catch Dr. Sultanen at the same time (not like last week’s escapades). He is supposed to see Gilly every Wednesday before or after radiation (which is at 4:30). We don’t want to risk missing him, so we all plan to be there early.
Will there be bathroom breaks? Lunch on the go? Who knows, but it’ll all get done, that I can assure you.
We’re trucking along rather nicely, wouldn’t you say? 2 ½ weeks into radiation, and chemo, and my guy continues to smile and bravely insists we made the right choice.
I gathered up some papers and hurried Gilly out the door. Grading assignments in waiting rooms is my latest habit; used to be coffee shops. Three blocks down the road I realized that my course outline was sitting in my briefcase at home. “I need my marking scheme,” I shouted (‘rubric’ is actually the new fancy term for ‘marking scheme’; the criteria I use to grade assignments). “How useless to bring all these papers without my necessary tool!” “Go back,” Gilly calmly suggested. I took his advice, and before we knew what hit us, we were back on track. Halfway to our final destination I took a gander at what I was wearing. It was a bleak, damp, cold and rainy day. Passers by were wearing long pants, warm jackets, and many carried umbrellas. I was sporting shorts, flip flop sandals and a t-shirt. Underdressed is an understatement. But I matched! All in red.
This reminds me of working days. I often find that I pack my schedule so tightly I forget to leave room for bathroom breaks and lunch. Today, I was so keen on ½ hour less pain for Gilly, I forgot to manage my own needs. I think I better create a checklist for myself. Good thing I wasn’t still in my nightgown!
Dr. Shapiro took care of Gilly’s root canal without incident. “I didn’t feel a thing,” he claimed as he sauntered out of the building. His mouth was still frozen, but the lopsided grin was prominent. He ate freshly made apple strawberry sauce and sipped on juice, quite content knowing that the deed was done.
I received calls back from the 2 neurologists’ offices (first Rubin, then Wein) this afternoon. At first, Rubin’s secretary booked me for late July. I was unruffled, for some reason, at the notion of such a long delay. When she asked the name of the Dr., I told her Sultanen, and the reason for the consultation. She immediately suggested that June 1st would be a better idea, and I agreed and thanked her. Wein’s office was only able to commit to July 19th, so I opted out. In the end, Dr. Melmed agreed to see us as a special favour to our dear Torontonian friend, and asked that we send in the referral. We are thrilled with the turn of events. He is head of neurology at the Jewish. He treated my dad and Susie, and is touted as a real mench.
Gilly plodded down the hallway towards radiology, and I dashed up to neurology to drop off the same referral I picked up from that very office yesterday. The secretary did a double take when she saw me, and cheerfully complied with my request to place the information where Dr. Melmed would see it. We await the call for the actual date for the appointment, but I am confident the blank will be filled in imminently.
On the way out of his radiation session, the pain was visible on Gilly’s face. Freezing lasts only so long. I attempted to locate a nurse to investigate if it would be O.K. for Gilly to take Advil, given the heavy duty meds he’s on, but he impatiently insisted I leave well enough alone. On the way home I appealed to his senses, pointing out that if he has intense pain during the night, it may be difficult to access an answer to this question. I understand that Gilly’s threshold for pain is high, but now is not the time to risk lack of sleep due to pain, and I’m concerned about proper nutrition as well (Jewish mother that I am). My second plea worked, and he agreed to at least allow me to gather the necessary information. The pharmacist assured me that Advil is safe, and at this stage of the game, Gilly needed no further convincing. An hour later he heartily consumed a full course meal. Phew!!!
Tomorrow, the medical-merry-go-round continues. I will attend my (what technically should be a day long) meeting at Vanier from 9 to 10 A.M. Sheryl and Gilly will meet me at the corner of Victoria and The Boulevard at 10:15 (sounds like a criminal act). Off we’ll zoom (the get away) to see Dr. Kavan at 10:45. Jerry will join us there, and when the rendez-vous draws to a close, I’ll return to Vanier for the remainder of the meeting while they head west (changing guards at Buckingham Palace). At 4:00, Jerry and Gilly will meet me at the Jewish, in hopes that we all catch Dr. Sultanen at the same time (not like last week’s escapades). He is supposed to see Gilly every Wednesday before or after radiation (which is at 4:30). We don’t want to risk missing him, so we all plan to be there early.
Will there be bathroom breaks? Lunch on the go? Who knows, but it’ll all get done, that I can assure you.
We’re trucking along rather nicely, wouldn’t you say? 2 ½ weeks into radiation, and chemo, and my guy continues to smile and bravely insists we made the right choice.
posted by Gilly at 7:56 PM
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