By Lucy

I’m starting to feel back to normal. I’ve gone back to measuring out exactly two shots into my drink before bed, although I’m not sure there’s a point in drying out before I leave again. I know Duff’s gonna wanna stay up drinking into the night; might be better served preserving my tolerance.

A few weeks back I had splurged on a backpack. Not just any backpack, but a kit for a leather backpack with dragon wings!

It came in Thursday afternoon and I ran over to Jeremy’s to grab it, cuz it was the last thing I had ordered using his address. Then I stayed up past my bedtime cuz I was so gosh darn excited to work on it!

I could not get out of bed fast enough to work on my bag, even though my finger tips were burning. As I pulled a clean shirt over my head, my nose burned as well. Sunburn from the boat! I staggered to the bathroom to pee, then put some aloe on my nose.

I had to head out early Friday for an appointment, this time one I was looking forward to. I was accepted at a nurse practitioner’s practice, yay! I know it isn’t the same as a GP, but considering how often I have scans and bloodwork by specialists, I figure all I really need is someone to keep me up to date on my vaccinations. I was nervously expecting a bunch of questions about my health records, but she was pretty chill.

“Bloodwork looks good. Kidneys are good, liver is great.”

Hmm, any specific reason you changed from good to great? Are my kidneys doing worse than my liver? How curious.

“Are you sexually active?”

What is the definition of sexually active? I mean obviously the answer was a yes, I’d had sex a week ago, but before that it was ten months. Does that count? Is there a cut off or is the real question “are you a virgin?”

“You’re about the age for a pap test.”

“Ah, yes. They keep sending me letters about it.” I was a little preoccupied with everything else.

“No worries, we can perform that here if you want.”

Even better.

Went back home and worked on more of my bag. I’ve been listening to Lady Gaga’s “Abracadabra” on repeat for days. I hated it the first few times I heard it, but it’s been growing on me.

It sends my mind off on thinking about the origin of the phrase “abracadabra”. It’s such an old word – first written attestations are second century, but it’s probably older. Popular myth says that it’s Hebrew and means “I create what I speak”, in the same vein that “assassin” comes from Persia’s Ḥaššāšīn, but that’s not true. There has been speculation about its connection to Abraxas stones and Gnosticism, like my tattoos.

Jeremy has expressed vague interest in Gnosticism from me and Kevin posting about it in the Discord chat, which I find interesting.

I had agreed to an extra boat ride at 2. Bruce is chartering a boat in Greece (and we think I have all the adventures?) and wanted some practice being captain. I got there and discovered it was just me and Chris and Bruce and regretted it for a little bit until I realized; I get to watch Chris be a crew member.

No offence to Chris, but I was half-expecting him to have lost his touch.

He has not.

He put all of us to shame. He was on the ball for everything, confusing me and Bruce.

Which made me laugh, because before Bruce got there he instructed me not to do anything without Bruce ordering us to, so Bruce would have to really practice, but Chris quickly forgot this and was soon giving Bruce advice.

We had a short ride, tacking a few times, going out past the breakwater and around one of the cargo ships. There was a few guys working on the deck for once and they stopped to wave at us.

We headed back to the marina and had some refreshments before the crew arrived for the usual race at 5. Gillian was here, yay!

I had some plan to bounce before the race started. We had more than enough crew – actually, I’m pretty sure we lost because we had too much crew – but Chris wanted me to stay.

I got home around 9. There was a dresser on the yard with a free sign.

Of course.

Around 9:30 Saturday morning I went to pick up Jeremy and we went to Bay Village for a social coffee. I had a feeling we’d see Paul there, but I was surprised to see Jacob, with his wife and baby daughter. We all ordered a drink and sat around chatting for about an hour. Jacob and his family bounced after about 40 minutes. Paul headed out to do other things and me and Jeremy went yardsaling.

I’m not much for yard sales, partially because it’s a lot of stopping and starting. In this instance, I was more just driving Jeremy around because every week, Kevin makes a spreadsheet of locations, and every week Jeremy laments that his lack of a car makes yardsaling hard.

When Jeremy was checking out our first yard sale, it occurred to me that I was flat broke and I still had to buy everything for the prep tomorrow. I mentioned it to Paul and he showed up where we were and handed me 150$ cash that he just happened to be carrying around. I tried to protest that it was too much, but he just shrugged and said it was a round number for me to remember.

I feel like I don’t show my appreciation for Paul enough!

Me and Jeremy worked our way around the neighborhood, eventually accidentally ending up at Faith’s church sale by accident. We chatted for a bit and she talked me into buying this little metal desk that wasn’t really what I was looking for, but it was 20 bucks and it fit in the trunk of my car after a lot of cursing and swearing. Jeremy found a desk chair he liked.

We drove around to another yardsale where Jeremy found a graphics card and MOBO for ten bucks that was actually better than the one he was using that could barely run his own game, so he made out like a bandit.

We also went grocery shopping, since I had to grab my prep stuff. They keep Pico Salax behind the counter and when I asked for it, the pharmacist asked if I just needed one.

“I feel bad for the poor bastard who needs more than one of these things.” I replied. He laughed.

I grabbed a case of Gatordade and went to the soup aisle for stock. Variety is the spice of the liquid diet. I discovered PC has a new Pho liquid stock, which would be good for homemade ramen.

I went back home, made some lunch, and settled into the couch to work on my backpack again. Emily was working on a baby blanket for her friend who is expecting, so we agreed to put on a movie. She’d never seen Into The Spiderverse, so I put that on.

We had a good vibe going – me and Emily crafting away in the living room, Hanuman popping in occasionally to toss a dad joke over his shoulder like a grenade – and then it all came crashing down.

Garry sent me a sexually explicit text, which was confusing in and of itself because it was entirely divorced from context. We haven’t really discussed the act mentioned in the text, but what was really disturbing was the confidence…. again. I broke into a sweat and felt going to the bathroom to throw up, mood shattered.

Around that time, the movie ended and Emily wanted me to put on another movie cuz I have good taste in movies, but I couldn’t focus anymore. I texted Paul in a panic and he agreed it would be hard for me to decline what was suggested without upsetting Garry. I went to wash the dishes at the sink, mind churning.

Was this the end of me and Garry?

If he’ll end it with you for saying no, then he’s not worth it.

We’re not dating. I’m only around as long as I’m fun.

One thing I find interesting is my lack of experience in this field. I’ve never even gotten an unsolicited dick pic, and I like to think that I have a good sense of who’s trouble and who’s not, so this really sent me for a spin. Am I losing my touch? Did I lead him on?

Another option presented itself; did I want it and I was just too shy to admit it?

I shut the water off and went to talk to Hanuman.

It’s a sign of how anxious I was that, in addition to the usual vague monk advice, he offered one concrete observation: I want stability.

I went back and washed more dishes. Stability. That’s not quite the right word. I’m often calm in a crisis; I provide my own stability, my own sense of control. I can handle unstable. What I want is devotion. I even told the Vagabond, once, that I’d walk on broken glass for him if he’s stay with me forever. He scoffed and said that was a stupid thing to offer because no one ever really commits.

I’d learned young that just because people ask degrading things of you, doesn’t mean they will reward you with loyalty for it. That’s why I’d made it through my teens and early twenties basically unscathed. Money is the only concrete thing they can offer. I’d even joked with Josh that love was the thing you could buy for 50 bucks from the truck stop (we’d been making jokes about lot lizards).

There was no use speculating if Garry would love me forever. The real question was, would I enjoy what he suggested on its own merits… and the answer was no.

I tried playing it off flirtatiously, but I woke up in the middle of the night from nightmares of being forced to do it anyway. I texted him that – politely – on no uncertain terms was it happening.

I never heard from Garry again.

I guess that’s my answer.

Sunday. Time to starve.

Good thing I had the backpack to work on. I toiled away, eventually joined by Emily and we watched Across the Spiderverse. After that, she put on Schitt’s Creek.

I sent Andrej a quick “Happy Father’s Day” email and his reply was signed, “Take care, Dad.”

Hmm… not sure how I feel about that. Still seems rude to call another man dad while my biological father is still alive and I do hope to be able to spend time with him again.

Kevin was supposed to come over at some point, but he ate himself into a food coma at an event in the morning that I would to love to have gone to. Stupid cancer.

I actually didn’t feel super hungry. Some people eat a light breakfast, but I find that just wakes your stomach up and makes it harder to resist later. Just Gatorade and the occasion cup of broth. I did feel increasingly dizzy as the day went on and was glad the instructions for the backpack were straightforward, until they weren’t and then I went and laid down and watched Youtube.

Sleep comes easily when you’re hungry.

Monday morning annoyed me. Hanuman and Emily decided the day I had been fasting for 24 hours was the perfect day to have themselves a bacon and eggs breakfast, replete with wandering around the apartment exclaiming, “That smells so good!”. I locked myself in my room and dugs my nails into my palms in the vain hope the pain would distract me.

I watched the previous night’s John Oliver, which was about air traffic controllers. I was surprised to learn it’s such a high-stress job that the FAA mandates a 57 year old retirement, and only about 5% of applicants pass training. Thunder Bay is a hotspot of air traffic activity for some reason, big for training pilots. They need air traffic controllers. Maybe that’s a career for me.

Around ten I had Emily drop me off at the hospital. I staggered thru the hospital, groggy with hunger, and found the endoscopy clinic. They took me in within 10 minutes. My nurse was great; he has the build of a cop, with a partially shaved head, but he cracks a lot of excellent jokes. He really read my chart and noted this is a procedure I’ve endured a lot. He also noticed my Sisu tattoo and said he’s Scandinavian as well (not Finnish) and he’s watched the movie.

He put the IV in my hand, right through the bruise I have from Jordan dropping a beam on me. He offered that it was the only vein he was confident he could hit on the first try but he could try a different one, but… ah, whatever. It all hurts.

Somehow, the nurse for my doctor herself didn’t know I had a colectomy. That seems like a bit of an oversight!

Just another day in hell, naked under the thin gown and layers of warmed blanket, a paper cuff on my wrist, shivering in the AC’d surgical room. Curled on the gurney under the sterile white lights while doctors in gowns and masks rush around, pressing buttons and laying out tools.

They put a blood pressure cuff on my left arm, a bunch of heart monitor stickers on my chest, and the ox meter on my index finger. A female doctor wanders in. “Hi Lucy, I’m Doctor Green.” She says curtly.

“Nice to meet you, finally.” I stammer.

When they put the cannula on my nose was when I started to get nervous.

See, I resist sedation. It’s especially ironic when you consider that most anesthesiologists try to gauge what I’ll need based on the fact I am a woman and rather slight, both normally indicators of less sedation. I apparently have the metabolism of Ozzy Osbourne. I remember waking up when they were extracting my wisdom teeth and tapping on the arm of the chair to get the surgeon’s attention. I also think my perfect memory works against me here. The theory of twilight sedation is that you’ll be “conscious” but you won’t remember through the haze of drugs… except I remember everything short of being unconscious.

A cannula meant they weren’t planning on putting me that far under… possibly because of the upper scope.

A nurse or doctor ordered me to open my mouth and sprayed lidocaine down my throat to numb it. “Gargle, then swallow.” After that, they put a plastic O ring in my mouth, to prevent me from biting the camera/ to prevent the tube from damaging my teeth.

“Here comes the sedation.” Someone says, grabbing the IV in my hand and injecting something in to it.

You become meat at this point, cuz they think you can’t remember, but I do.

Well, I remember bits and pieces. The sedation hit me like a truck at first and I blacked out as they inserted the endoscopy camera. I came to as they were rooting around my stomach. I must have been fighting them or moaning in pain, cuz someone asked me if I needed more sedation and somehow I gave them an assent.

When they finally wheeled me back to the recovery unit, the nurse forgot about me. I instantly grabbed my phone and texted Emily – I recover fast too – and the nurse said she’d be back in half an hour and didn’t come back for an hour. She didn’t give me a call bell and I didn’t trust my legs to carry me, so I just had to wait. She brought me apple juice and Biscoff cookies.

For whatever reason, they let me stagger out of the hospital under my own power. I folded myself into the front seat of the car gratefully. Emily had brought me a baconator, as requested. Wendy’s launched the original baconator just before my first scope and it was what I wanted when I was done, so it’s just been a little ritual since them. Scope = baconator.

They gave me a letter before I left… the doc had already typed up notes. It noted a few polyps here and there. They do seem to be concentrating in the duodenum, which suggests the course of my disease will follow my dad and my grandmother’s. They also took biopsies for celiac disease… I guess because it causes anemia? But I was still anemic at the first set of bloodwork and Keto doesn’t allow wheat in any form, unless you need to suppress celiac with steroids.

The notes also say I would need a repeat scope, “as the patient was challenging to sedate and will require anesthesia assistance”.

Anesthesia assistance? What does that even mean?

Also yay, another several days off work, etc etc. I’ve started seeing the number of days I have until I go back to NZ as this blinking countdown on my HUD. Every day I lose to a doctors appointment is increasingly annoying me.

Ate my baconator, had a nap, finished my backpack.

I sent a text of the notes to my dad. He replied basically telling me not to worry (I wasn’t) and ending with complaining that I didn’t say boo for Father’s Day.

Well, I don’t know, maybe you should try acting like a dad. When I replied to him, ignoring the father’s day bit, my iPhone notified me that he has me on silent notifications now.

I mean, what did I say?

It rained that night, hard. There’s been a cloth shoved into the window sill since I moved in, I assumed because it leaked, but the window was leaking so much the cloth was saturated and leaking itself. It sounded like someone was knocking on my bedroom door and I woke up in a panic for the second time this week. I shoved more rags into the spot and eventually managed to fall back asleep again.

I spent the next morning setting up this app Paul had forwarded to me. It basically lets you set up hitchhikers in advance, and it confirms their identity with photo ID and escrow purchases like Uber. I managed to arrange to pick up a guy, moving my drive to Winnipeg back from Wednesday afternoon to Thursday morning. It would cover the cost of my gas, at least.

Off to the hospital for bloodwork.

Taco Tuesday with Jeremy, like usual.

I texted Duff to let him know the change of plans and he replied that I couldn’t stay over cuz he had bed bugs.

What? You jerk!

I honestly believed he was that upset about me sleeping with Garry that he was lying. (Time proved he wasn’t lying, but he was that upset). He had known since sometime last week but just forgot that I was coming to visit!

I probably should have just cancelled the trip, but it felt like something I had to do even if I couldn’t explain it.

I texted around and Heidi knew someone in Winnipeg who was cool with me crashing on their couch. I’ve also been still talking to Josh, for whatever reason, and he offered that I could just stay with them in Regina, but my interest in Regina was quickly fading for obvious reasons.

Wednesday morning. I went for a drive to gas up the car and then clean it. It took me about an hour of cursing to vacuum and hose it down at one of those outdoor car washes, but it looked a lot nicer. I even stopped at a car parts place and grabbed a cabin air filter. I always laugh at the number of people who have air fresheners and never change the filter. I change mine once a year and look how dirty it is!

Packing… again.

I had my annual appointment with my oncologist. At the last moment, some instinct told me to bring Emily with me to my appointment. Usually I bring Hanuman as my emotional support person and he commented on the unusualness of the change.

We left with adequate time, parked and walked in. I don’t usually wait long before I get called in and there was no change there. The nurse took my weight; I’m up ten pounds. Hopefully all muscle! The nurse took notes about how I’ve been feeling without glancing at me; Emily commented on it after she left.

“I’m used to it. Here, there, everywhere.” I dunno what it is about me as a patient – I look too young and healthy, perhaps – but doctors and nurses never seem very concerned or invested in me.

We waited about half an hour. I noticed the doctor come out of the room opposite us – must have been another appointment that ran long. He gave me a friendly smile and a little wave.

He came in rather quickly after that. He shut the door and looked excited. “Who is this? Your friend?”

“My roommate. She’s a recent nursing graduate.” I said, expecting him to congratulate her. He did not. He was focused on something.

“The scan was good.”

“Yeah, if anything I’d say the tumor shrunk.” I add. I’ve been having a difficult time finding it with my fingers.

“It did. Do you take Advil?” He asked urgently.

“No?” I only ever use Tylenol, except for the odd time I run out and someone only has Advil. Ironically for the reason he was about to outline; all pain meds are not the same. Advil, Ibuprofen and Aleve, if used chronically, will cause stomach ulcers and kidney damage. Tylenol, by comparison, only causes liver damage, but the liver is a lot more forgiving than the kidneys, in my opinion.

He continued to list off thing that cause kidney damage. “Are you dehydrated from the prep?”

Possibly, slightly, but not enough for whatever has gotten him freaked out. My urine is light coloured, my nail beds are fine, and the phlebotomist yesterday didn’t complain about difficulty finding a vein. I have been dehydrated enough to need emergency IV rehydration, and I am not there.

“You’re a nursing grad.” He turned to Emily. “Normally her creatinine is 80. Yesterday it was 120.”

My mystery ten pounds… edema?

Do I have kidney failure?

“You need to go across the hall and get more bloodwork. Drink lots today. Coca cola, tea, coffee, anything, not beer it will dry you out. Drink lots. Let’s go!”

He took off, not running but walking with purpose. Me and Emily trailed behind him as he led us to the bloodwork office. “Mr Man is in a rush.” Emily commented.

He handed the nurses a req. He turned to me, “I’ll call you tomorrow, no matter what.”

The nurses stood around chatting for another 5 minutes before taking me in to stab me. No complaints about my veins again.

“You were just here yesterday! What’s he looking for?” One of them said.

“Kidney markers.” The other responded.

“Go home and drink lots, honey.”

Yes, yes.

It also means I missed out on the opportunity to ask him any questions about my scope, my mystery swollen lymph node, or the fact he had referred me to a cosmetic surgeon last year who hadn’t contacted me yet.

I’ll deal with it later.

Emily was kind and helpful as I panicked all the way home about my potential kidney failure. She agreed I did appear to be drinking enough and said that my creatinine is elevated but not super elevated.

After I stopped panicking, I worked on the poster for the bar trivia night now that we’ve decided on a date. I actually wasn’t expecting it to turn out as nice as it did, I’m pretty proud of it.

They’re doing a race and a “sunset flotilla” at the marina. I’m too stressed to race and they probably don’t need me anyway, but the flotilla interests me. Chris suggests being at the dock for 8.

I stick my head in the Delta to see if Sue is killing time there. She’s not, but a bunch of business men in suits sitting at the bar are eating me with their eyes. Maybe I should come back here in a nice dress one day and talk one into giving me a couple grand. I’d have more success paying off my debt that way than picking up bikers.

After walking around the dock a bit, Sue shows up. We wait until almost 8:30, but the boat is still clearly out past the breakwater.

I have a long drive tomorrow. I probably shouldn’t have tried to show up at all, but I figured I wouldn’t get to sleep that early anyway. This is pushing it.

I ask Sue to give Chris my best and head home.