Photo: meddygarnet, Flickr
It seems like I just went for a cancer follow-up, and here I go again, this morning, at 8 o’clock. There are just so many doctors and procedures. I have a radiation oncologist (she’s the one I saw five weeks ago), a medical oncologist (seeing him today), and I go for mammograms and ultrasounds, and MRI scans, too. All these appointments are scattered around my calendar, along with my annual physical, my OB/GYN check-up, dental appointments, eye appointments, skin cancer screenings, whew! Seems if ever anything is about to go wrong with my body, someone — one of these qualified docs — is going to nip it in the bud. That’s my hope, anyway — that this constant monitoring is prevention at its best, or at the very least, will lead to nothing more than early detection.
It makes me feel safe to weave myself through the maze of needle sticks and blue gowns. And safe I’ve been for almost five years now (November is the big remission mark). I think I won’t change a thing. Well, maybe just the long waits and never-ending co-pays.