You didn't really plan on relaxing today, did you?

Tuesday, pre-chemo #1 day, dawned and I stuck with the plan. I took my two Dexamethason pills as directed, with food, and got to work at 6 a.m. I had a lot to accomplish, as I knew I'd need to leave at 11 a.m. the next day to make my noon chemo appointment -- and was then planning to take Thursday off as "possible reaction" day. I was still limping, of course, but I had resolved that whatever was torturing my right knee was going to have to be tolerated until I slammed the door on the chemo chapter.

And then at 11 a.m., I got a call at work from the nurse at the internist's office -- the one I had left a message for the night before. She was calling on behalf of the physician's assistant who had ordered the ultrasound on my knee after seeing me on Saturday. The nurse said the PA was concerned it might be a blood clot behind the knee and wanted me to get in to see the orthopedist referral right now. WHAT!?

The orthopedist's scheduler said she could squeeze me in at 1:30 -- but please get there 15 minutes early to fill out the raft of forms. I scrambled to get done as much work as possible, then made the 45-minute drive to get to my appointment. En route, I called Dr. B., my oncologist, and told her about this new wrinkle that might upset the chemo cart. She asked that I call her after my appointment and bring her up to speed.

The parking lot was jammed and I had to park a distance away, but I noticed that I was suddenly walking better than I had for a full week or more. I signed in, grabbed a clipboard with a book of forms to complete, and took one of the few open seats in the waiting room that probably accommodated 50 patients. While others might take 30 minutes and beyond to complete that many two-sided forms, I had it down to a science. They weren't dealing with a rookie here. In the past two months, I had filled out every possible medical form, sometimes at two or three different locations in a single day -- and I could fly through them like Apolo Anton Ohno on speed skates.

Fifteen minutes later, and smiling like the champion form lady, I handed back my clipboard and asked if the doctor was running on schedule. "Actually, he's running a little behind." All the good magazines were taken, but they had a rack full of find-these-items-in-the-drawing papers -- all different themes and designs. Must have been 50 different ones. I did all of them. The thing that tripped me up every time -- eyeglasses. I could find the banana, the fish, the hairbrush, the pen, the toothbrush, the apple, and on and on. Running a little behind? Fifty find the items, with long searches for spectacles!

At 3:30, they called my name and I was led to an exam room where I left my things and was whisked off to the x-ray room for a couple of shots of my knees. More pre-radiation radiation. I returned to the exam room and met with the doctor. He was young, he was honest and he was confused as to why I was there. If it was a blood clot, which it wasn't, that wouldn't have been his to fix, it would have been the internist's call. I did have a small baker's cyst. Could be fluid leaking from a tear in the meniscus. But, he assured me, the purpose of the ordered ultrasound was to determine if there was a blood clot. And there wasn't.

Now I was confused. Why had the internist's office thrown me into a drop-everything, could be a blood clot, go see the wrong kind of specialist panic? The orthopedist wondered the same thing. He manipulated the knee to see where the pain kicked in -- that old game. I told him that actually, just a few hours ago I started walking better than I had for weeks. Power of suggestion? No, he informed me. The power of Dexamethason -- the pre-chemo steroids I had taken just that morning. He could give me a cortisone shot in the knee, but the pills I was taking were accomplishing the same thing. He wrote out a prescription for me to start physical therapy when ready. If the knee got worse, I could come back for the shot, he could order an MRI -- but he realized I had enough on my plate with the chemo. I could deal with him in the future. And most likely will. I really like those find-the-item games.

On my way home, I called Dr. B. and gave her the wrap-up. After my pre-ortho-visit phone call to her, she had begun wondering as well why the internist's office would have zipped me off to an orthopedist if they thought I had a blood clot. A question for the ages, as I will no doubt search for a new internist in the near future. I told Dr. B. I would see her the next day for Round One of Sandi vs. chemo.

I went home, had dinner and two more Dexamethason pills and said a quick prayer of thanks that I wasn't in the hospital trying to dissolve a blood clot. How lucky can I get?!