When a tumor isn't a tumor

Just an update on the medical saga: 

full history (here).

I've seen 2 more docs, of various persuasions,

had more diagnostic/radiological studies,

another cortisol shot, 

after having 35ccs of fluid drained from my knee

and the final diagnosis -

it wasn't a tumor; it was a bleb.

 

A burst Bakers cyst with the fluid traveling downward, 

mixing with blood from a rather rare intramuscular bleed

and, because of my pre-existing auto immune issues, 

my body mobilized for Iowa Jima, 

sending massive amounts of blood cells to the area to fight off infection,

causing the collection to harden 

and creating bone marrow edema - 

which I can attest hurts like hell 

since extra cells/fluid are trapped inside the marrow 

with nowhere else to go

causing bone pain.

Long story short:

not a tumor,

just a cascading series of bizarre events

with a projected long recovery;

yes, even longer than the 2+ months its already been.

Art camp continues to lift my spirits and occupy my mind;

working on a mixed media piece called

"Still Life in a Potters Studio";

a few flowers will be added when composition finalized

and, as always,

altering 'cabinet cards' makes me smile -

and I'll take any opportunity to do that!

I'm off for a massage - and to pick up 2 jars of CBD ointment for my knee.

If that doesn't work, I might just resort to edibles instead!

WAAYY outside of my comfort zone

 I recently participated in an Altered Doll workshop -

on line, through Facebook Live -

a workshop which involved sculpting an animal head with clay.

 

Here's the thing -

I've never sculpted before, 

I have zero ability to follow directions 

unless an instructor is standing right in front of me

and I don't like doing things unless I know I can do them well.

 

Sounds like a complete waste of $35.00, right?!

Clearly I signed up when I was desperate 

for yet one more distraction from more serious concerns. 

The examples shown of sculpted heads were for an elephant and a giraffe.

Easy enough for me to decide -

I associate elephants too much with the Republican party - 

NO WAY was I going to expend time and energy to bring one of them into my house!

So giraffe it was.

As a child, I always wanted to have a long graceful neck - 

like the actress, Audrey Hepburn -

rather than the squat peasant neck of my ancestors.

Since it wasn't likely I could change genetic structure, 

I figured I might as well give the giraffe a try

and live out my neck fantasies vicariously.

 

(Imagine my surprise when I realized at the end of the class -

as other creators posted images of their dolls -

that rule breakers abounded!

Classmates had crafted amazing roosters, ravens, pigs, groundhogs,

rabbits, dragons, cats, dogs and horses!)

It never even occurred to me to venture that far out of the box!

 

Anyway, even before the first session, 

as I started freaking out about armature, lack of talent, clay drying too quickly etc,

my son (Art boy) told me to get some cheap clay and just play -

anything to get the feel of the material and reduce the mystery of it.

Besides, he reminded me, you don't even have to show it to anyone; 

it's still basically quarantine, no one even has to know you're trying this.

AHH, avoidance and denial - I can do that!

So I played -

and was actually pretty pleased with the result, so I made another.

'cause everyone deserves a friend.

 

When class time rolled around, I was ready.

This

became this
 

and Audrey started emerging.

 

Thank God for the Dollar store -

for false eyelashes and cloths in the auto section 

that can be repurposed as manes.

We've had a few false starts with clothing

She was so upset with the whole sunflower vibe thing that she became suicidal

and leapt off the table in protest;

breaking an ear, but surviving more or less intact.

 

Nothing that couldn't be camouflaged by the right flower placement.

She clearly preferred something understated and simple.

Classy gal that Audrey.

I knew she would be.

 

Can't tell you what fun it was to reach beyond what I know 

and think I'm capable of doing.

Also nice to know that as my body is aging and failing me in so many ways,

there are still new things to learn and do.

Told you so ...

A few more creatures appeared over the weekend -

obviously I'm not done with my distractions.

May I present,

The Goat who was tired of eating garbage and tried trout,

The Bird who wrote a book

and, my favorite,

The Rooster who retired, wore a bathrobe all day 

and ate hot dogs whenever he wanted.

The giraffe who danced with her budgies

and the grumpy wren also got in on the action.

I also got out my new watercolors

and gave them a try.

 

Baby steps -

or practice makes mediocre.

I've wrestled hard this week with expectations; 

with comparisons to others with more talent, 

innate ability 

and training.

 

The reality is that you don't have to be good at art to make art.

It's part of the human experience to be able to express yourself

and art is just that - an expression of self.

 

You can love the making of something -

and that's enough.

I've found my primary expression, for years, in verbal and written skills;

its a wonderful change to use the instruments of markers, scissors, glue and paper

and see what emerges.

I've always found joy in simple things.

There's no reason why my expressions in art can't be simple and naive as well.

Diversionary tactics

 I don't know about you, but there's only so much stewing and ruminating I can do.

No matter how many things I'm worried about,

 I have limited space in my head;

I refuse to let it be completely cluttered up 

with every horrible possibility.

Not surprisingly, 

just like I did when I was a kid,

I turn to paper, glue and scissors when I need to turn off 

the prophetess of gloom that lives in my head. 

With that being said,

it won't surprise you to learn it's been playtime at my house this weekend -

and I have the mess strewn all over the dining room to prove it.

But, boy has it been fun.

Anthropomorphic paper dolls have been on the agenda

 Not quite sure where's she's taking that mushroom - or why -

but her white go-go boots really rock the outfit.

You can never go wrong wearing Mary Engelbreit

Repurposed mumu top, complete with tissue in the pocket

and comfy slippers -

maybe cuts a little too close to home.

The Deer has already been adopted out to a friend who taught members of our church 

how to dance to 'Jerusalema 'for Pentecost -

hence her sheath in red, gold and yellow flames,

with arms raised.

Mama Bear remains with me.

For right now, they're living on my mantle in a small village

scattered among people I love.

They make me smile whenever I walk by -

and that is reason enough to love them!

They're also addicting 

in their infinite possibilities.

 

I suspect there's more to come.

Goin on a rant

 If you're happy with the way your healthcare system is working for you,

you might want to skip the following post.

 

If, like me, your recent experiences have been subpar 

and you want to vicariously hear someone else's woes

to put yours in perspective, 

read on.

 

In mid-March, I was walking down the stairs to the basement to do laundry. 

For the sake of story telling, 

I'd love to say it was March 15th,

so I could add a quip about "Beware the Ides of March"

but alas it was the day after, 

March 16th. 

Be wary of that day as well.

 

Anyway, with no obstacle on the step or any previous indication of leg weakness,

I heard an audible 'pop', felt excruciating knee pain -

which cause my left leg to buckle -

 and I fell down the last 3 steps, ending up in a heap on the floor, 

along with my dirty laundry. 

When I got up, weight bearing on my leg was difficult

but luckily, with COVID, I'm not going too many places

so I kept it elevated and iced 

and waited for an already scheduled appointment with my PMD

2 days later.

 

As might be expected as I gimped into his office, 

he ordered x-rays which revealed that nothing was broken 

(although that concern had never been at the top of my worry list.)

 

I was referred to Ortho - and was able to get an appointment the next day.

At that appointment, we reviewed history, the doc commiserated about my pain 

and an MRI  of my knee was scheduled for April 3rd.

 

The MRI showed I had a new meniscal tear on top of an old injury;

although what the old injury was and when/how it was sustained 

remains a mystery to this day.

Since my pain level remained fairly high and mobility was still severely limited,

I was given a shot of Cortisol in my knee.

As long as I was dealing with medical issues

and felt like a professional patient,

I managed to squeeze in a mammogram and a bone density sturdy

which were both overdue.

Both, as expected, were normal 

and as far as I'm concerned are the last ones I ever need to get.

On April 24th, I went to Chicago for the weekend 

to gather with family and mourn the loss of a nephew 

 who committed suicide several weeks ago.

 

David (shown here in better, younger days)

struggled for decades with dual diagnoses of bipolar disease and substance abuse.

His loss has been fiercely felt but all who love him are relieved that he's finally at peace.

It was a beautiful, sad, joyful and hard weekend.

It helped being together and getting hugs from everyone 

in all our fully vaccinated state.

It's been too long.

 Don't let the sun fool you; it was gorgeous but COLD.

38 degrees at the lakefront with a stiff wind.

 

All of my nieces and nephews worked as lifeguards at the beachfront 

and we decided that was the perfect place to celebrate Dave's life on Sunday.

Unfortunately, that also meant walking and few benches for the gathered group. 

As hard as I tried to stay off my leg, elevate and ice it when back at the house

total compliance with limited mobility protocols were just impossible.

 

By the time the Memorial Service at the lakefront was over,

my leg was SO hard, swollen and red, I was in tears.

Driving back home 5+ hours the next day didn't help.

 

For the next two days,

I laid low, with ice packs and leg elevation and had marginal relief

but not significant enough to reassure me.

I even called the Ortho service to see if I should follow up with them - or my primary.

Nobody in the office ever called back.

 

By Wednesday of last week, 

I was concerned I might have a DVT (deep vein thrombosis)

and, after an all day meeting on the computer, 

I drove myself to Urgent Care.

 

After telling the front desk what I was there for, and paying my 'co-pay',

I was ushered back, to an exam room,

 only long enough to be told that they couldn't evaluate for a DVT there 

and I'd have to go to the ER.

My suggestion that they return my co-pay  then 

was met with stony silence and glares.

 

I dutifully drove myself to the ER;

repeated my story and chronology, getting pissy and less enthusiastic with each telling

and was sent to the waiting room to ...

you know, wait.

 

Finally saw another NP who drew blood and started an IV, 

"in case you throw a clot and we have to revive you".

Good to be prepared.

The blood work was to see if I had proteins in my blood "indicative for blood clots".

I was told it would take about 20" for the lab work to come back.

I was sent back to the waiting room to ... wait.

Apparently my throwing a clot might as well happen without tying up an exam room.

 

After 1 hr and 15" of waiting, I went to the front desk and, apologetically, 

asked if someone could check and see if my labs were back.

Reluctantly, a nurse volunteered to check - 

and came back within minutes, 

apologizing profusely for leaving me in the waiting room.

 

I flunked the test.

The results were positive - "meaning it was indicative of but not diagnostic for "a blood clot.

My IV was taken out which led to me bleeding out all over my new blouse; 

I looked like I'd been an active participant in a mass murder.

When my bleeding finally got under control, 

I was given a shot of an anticoagulant in my stomach 

which was supposed to ward off any further

blood clots for the next 12 hours

 and told to return first thing in the morning for an ultrasound.

 

Dutifully, I returned, and underwent said Ultrasound.

At one point, the young tech told me she had to step outside and get her Supervisor;

her Supervisor came in - and then said she had to step out to get a Doctor.

 

Shortly after that, when it was just the tech and I again, 

I asked if she could tell me if they had found a clot.

She answered cheerfully, "Oh, the good news is there's no clot" ...

and then insert pregnant pause here.

When I asked what the bad news was, she practically chirped, 

"Oh, I don't want to freak you out".

"Too late for that, honey!" was my reply.

She said she didn't want to get in trouble 

but "it seems there might be a tumor in your leg that will definitely need more workup".

I was dismissed minutes later - without once ever seeing an MD or a RN again.

My discharge papers advised me to "follow up with my Primary MD as needed".

 

On my way home from Ultrasound, I got a call from Ortho,

saying they had been meaning to call 

but they noticed I'd been in Urgent Care and the ER

and they were waiting to see what happened. 

They said they had wanted to bring me in for either another Cortisol shot

or speak to me about a total knee replacement.

What???

As far as I knew there was nothing wrong with my knee prior to my fall.

OK, obviously with RA, there has been some joint damage 

but my LEFT leg had been my 'good' leg! 

My son (33 years younger than I am to be sure ) has had 3 meniscal tear repairs -

and never once has anyone spoken about a total knee replacement!

Excuse me, but I smell ageism.

 

Then the scheduler topped off the conversation saying,

 "But honestly no one in Ortho is going to touch your leg for any procedure 

until someone figures out what to do with your tumor." 

OK then.

Long story short -

another appointment with my primary today, 

multiple calls trying to get around the system,

then multiple calls trying to work with the system.

 

I have another MRI, with and without contrast,

as well as 3 doctors appointments

in the next 3 weeks.

Hopefully a diagnosis and plan for treatment will be delineated by the time it's over.

A girl can dream anyway ...

Not gonna lie;

its been hard lately

and I'm not sure its gonna get much better

anytime soon.