rx-nee-blog

[rx-nee-blog]

The MRI

July 29 2016

“Did you know horses can get Zika?”

“No way,” I said with a mouth full of graham cracker. I had just come from a two hour PET scan and had to deprive myself of food since 10pm the night before. What’s worse, is that I couldn’t eat carbs for dinner. Not even alcohol! But let’s be honest, I had a glass of wine and some whiskey before bed. Hey, it was for my cough, and I cut myself off before midnight.

“So there are like baby horses out there with deformed, shrunken heads?”

“Yup. Crazy, right?”

I still couldn’t really believe she was here, barely 24 hours after I told her about my bronch results. But I was glad she was here.

We looked up at the waiting room tv, past the guy falling asleep in his chair, to see the local news report. They were advertising a special broadcast for the next day on a man to complete the highest skydive jump without a parachute, and land on a net about a third the size of a football field. I turned my head slowly toward Diane. Her eyes narrowed.

“I’m supposed to do something reckless this weekend. Let’s go skydiving!”

“It’s supposed to rain.”

“All weekend?”

“No. I’ll start looking into places.” Diane said hesitantly but not totally defeated.

“Ms. Holder. We’re ready for you,” a young woman called from behind the MRI suite doors. I walked through and followed her instructions for the imaging uniform of two scrubs and shoe covers. I asked to see the MRI order to confirm it had been clarified from when I asked at the first desk. But no such luck. So she left me to page the doctor.

As I waited for my turn in the EDC beats factory machine, I sat on a couch under a sun roof. It was nice to feel the warmth of the sun without feeling the sticky heat. Everyone that passed me asked if I needed a blanket, but I declined each time; the natural heat was enough. I was finally asked to shuffle back to one of the machines that had opened up, and the tech settled me into the machine. As he started retrofitting my head into the cradle with foam pads, he stopped and cocked his head to the side while staring at me.

“You have a really small head. Like a really small head.”

“Maybe my mom had Zika 30 years ago….”

He seemed to consider it for a second then wagged his finger at me with a hint of a smile. He turned around to grab a few more foam pads and crammed them in alongside the others. He looked satisfied with his work as he put another plastic piece over my face.

“What, you don’t have any smaller head cages?” I asked, innocently.

“No,” he laughed, “just the one size.”

Drawing Credit: Serena on Drawception 1/28/2016 https://drawception.com/player/20754/serena/

[rx-nee-blog]

The Bench and The Legacy

9-5-16

I have two visions. One has been around awhile, decades. In my “What if” scenarios that inevitably play out in my head.

What if I suddenly died in a car accident? What if something horrible happened on one of my trips abroad? What if I developed a serious illness that was destined to claim my life?

How would people remember me? What would my legacy be?

It’s a fantasy of sorts. A way to plump up my ego I guess.

How many people would be at my funeral? Would THAT person come to my funeral? What if THEY came to my funeral? My details, always details.

But those thoughts quickly advance to what would I leave behind? A couple of papers about pharmacy practice and drug selection. Service to a few charitable, social, and professional organizations. A smile or a hand to hold to someone at the moment it was needed most. A shoulder to cry on, an ear to listen, a heart to feel.

The fantasy part of it gets more specific in that, although those things do mean a lot to me - leaving behind pieces of my thought, decision make, love, acceptance, and compassion - that I hope I had a bigger impact than just that in the short time I was here. These are not humble thoughts for me by any means. It’s my fantasy for goodness sake! I hope there’s an award, a recurring lecture, a small sum of money donated in my name, or a bench in the God-forsaken (or God-full, depending on how you look at it) bus circle at my hospital. I guarantee my patients and my team would use it.

Since that vision has been around for awhile, it’s in the background for the moment. It still weaves its way in and I add to it from time to time. But there’s a new vision in the forefront.

While outside on the Georgetown University Campus, where I like to walk for fresh air during my hospitalizations, this vision came to me. The vision of the bench.

This bench resides in a small haven on the campus surrounded by the medical school, school of basic sciences, and cryptically named building D. As you approach, the trees, not thick enough to shroud the area, descend in height the closer they are to the benches. The part-shelter, part-seating area, is also surrounded by a flower and sculpture garden that is carefully given the appearance of planned randomness. I find this comforting. A clean brick walkway opens into a fountain, encircles it, and closes on the other end to meet an alternate entrance and a beautiful sculpture lined by a subtle curtain of foliage. The fountain is always trickling lightly into the clear, shallow pool. Never showy. Never bubbly or spitting.

I sit on the opposite bench and gaze over at the other. I start to think about what life will be like in three years. I see myself approaching the bench with the dogs. Back on campus for a visit. Healthy. I set on the bench. Dudley jumps up to sit in my lap. I pick Dyna up and hold her under her arms, over my head for a few seconds before lowering her to the kissing zone. She obliges and lick my cheek softly a few times before settling in next to Dudley. I gaze out at nothing in particular at first. Then at the beautiful sculpture. How wild and complex the woman looks. Yet how strong and powerful. I think about her, and I think about my initial sightings of her for awhile. Then I change my gaze to the other bench. For a moment my sick self sees my healthy self looking at me. Not with pity. But with love and admiration. The sick me tears up a little for that reassuring vision. The healthy me continues to gaze, but through me, thinking about everything she has been through then, and now. She knows what is to come. She knows there will be times when I want to give up. But she also knows that she came back to sit on the bench. To visit me.

So for now, given the choice, this is the vision I focus on. The bench is my legacy.

[rx-nee-blog]

The Cough

June 6 2016

“Hey, you ladies done chatting and ready to run?” I called over my shoulder at my ‘running partners.’

I assumed I would be the one lagging behind due to my cough. The doctors said it was just that, and gave me an inhaler and some cough syrup. It was doing the trick for now.

I slowed down to a fast walk and Anne and Regina caught up by the end of the second loop.

“I’m good for another,” I said.

“I’ve got to get home,” followed by, “Me too,” sent me back into my jogger’s pace.

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow,” I shouted without looking back this time. I had just signed myself up for two marathons in October, and I wasn’t about to let the early training season get away from me. Plus it was a gorgeous day outside, minus the shit humidity.

God I hate humidity! It makes my hair frizzy, my acne go crazy, my breathing bad when breathing isn’t a problem, and it covers me in a fine layer of condensation (no, not perspiration, condensation) if I go outside for even a minute. My sweat is deodorant-resistant and stronger than any perfume I own. [pit check] “Yup, that’s gross,” I think to myself. Actually, I might have said that part out loud… “Man, I’m glad I don’t have balls because those would be sticking to my legs like Silly Putty. Because that’s not gross.”

My internal rant on the disgustingness yielded by the high barometer reading gets me through another mile. I have to stop before the big hill to puff-puff on my inhaler. At least my technique is on point! One of the perks of my job is already having the medication knowledge to bypass the pharmacist education (that usually isn’t adequately offered, but sorely underused). Check a few good videos here if you need to double check your technique on the most common inhaler types (or better yet ask your pharmacist to watch and critique you):

http://www.cdc.gov/asthma/inhaler_video/default.htm

http://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/asthma/multimedia/asthma/vid-20084733

On the last mile, I keep playing my visit with the doctor through my head. She asked all the right questions, and was appropriately concerned about inappropriate prescribing of antibiotics. Was it weird they didn’t run any tests? Should I have been more persistent about that? I should probably schedule another visit now in case it doesn’t get better. But it’s going to get better. Eventually.

Home-Made Cough Syrup

http://www.thekitchn.com/recipe-bourbon-cough-syrup-for-79030