This year is proving to be more odd and eventful than usual and we are only 28 days into it. On the medical front, the fistula isn't forming and the surgeon proposed a 'procedure' where a catheter opens up the bifurcated vein with a 'balloon' and makes it more accessible and shuts down the errant vein. I worried all night about that one, and had Excy call the next day to make sure no dye would be used (Amy -- dye equals die). Apparently the form you always have to fill out in a Drs. office? The one in my case that takes up three full sheets and about 30 minutes? They never look at them. Despite my writing how highly allergic I am to contrast dye, and a crash cart and a week in the hospital was involved in the past, they were planning to use dye. When Excy explained this wasn't possible because I am allergic to it, the nurse answered brightly that she'd phone in a script for steroids the night before. Excy said it was impossible; I was even allergic to the prep drugs now. Acting like they didn't believe me, they called back to say there was "nothing they could do for me." So a $15,000+ surgery has gone south and there's nothing they can do??! When Emory and NIH won't touch you with dye why would a local hospital feel secure in doing this?
I felt better after talking to a guy who said his fistula took 6 months to form, but since NIH wanted me to have the fistula in place by the time we went up in Feb., and they need to remove the kidney remnant before the tumor metastizes, they are considering options with Emory on how to work around the newest problem. You know the Chinese curse - may you live in interesting times? I am quite sick of it.
In lighter news, I went to the Jan. WOW last night and had a great time. The ladies were on fire. And many were over-served. Quite a few hysterics, funny stories, and tears were shared. After watching B spill a glass of red, and pour 2 glasses of white to over-flowing, I told S that I may not drink at a WOW again it was so amusing to sit back and watch and listen to the carryings-on. (I stop at a half-glass these days to protect the remnant). Not to imply we are all a bunch of drunken sots. It was just a weird night and most of the ladies had tensions that spilled over the end of the week.