My Harrowing Week

Last week began badly.  I had been having some symptoms that were not in and of themselves distressing, but persistent, and then I had increased bloating combined with a decreased appetite, neither of which are my norm.  So I made an appointment with the GI doctor who had done my colonoscopy (well, in truth, he was out sick so I saw a locums tenens doctor instead).  He was completely unimpressed with my symptoms and scheduled me for an endoscopu.  I was not convinced that would get to the heart of my problem, or at least it would not reassure me that there was not something else going on, so he ordered an abdominal CT, which I got on a Thursday.  Then on Sunday I got a message in my email that my medical record had an update, and that is how I found out that I had ovarian cancer.  I read my own abdominal CT report, sitting on the front porch of my house on a sunny morning, my husband on an airplane and my parents at church, and no one else who I really wanted to talk to.

So welcome to modern medicine, I thought  The good news is that I found out.  I got an appointment to see a gynecological oncologist on Monday, and had my surgery on Thursday.  The bad news, is that ovarian cancer is really bad news, and it doesn't appear that we get really bad news in a personal way.  I am pretty sure the doctor who ordered the test would not have been a better choice for getting the devastating news, nor would I have gotten care any sooner.  But I do know that  it felt strangely representative of the world that we now inhabit, where information comes to us conveniently but inhumanely.  Wish me luck in the weeks and months ahead, and think about ways that you want to hear bad news about your medical condition in the future, because it is already here.