September 8. In the afternoon, I take Schatzi and BoPeep to Barkefellers, a kennel for pampered dogs. Most of the dogs I’ve seen there are purebreds, but my little mutts have attitude and fit right in. Schatzi, who has separation anxiety, is always troubled when I leave, but this time, so is BoPeep. I leave with their black noses pressed against the door, their big brown eyes pleading with me to take them with me. I am haunted by their behavior.
September 9. I get up at 5:30. Ryan comes at 6:00. We get to Methodist Hospital on time. I’m given twilight sleep and something to deaden the needle site. They make a pathway from the middle of my upper back diagonally to my lung and use needles to get a sample. I am vaguely aware that two doctors are saying numbers. There was no pain.
Ryan brings me home. We talk a bit. I tell him how much I appreciate his kindness.
September 10. My chest hurts a little. I worry about my cancer treatment. I pick up my dogs from Barkefellers, then go outside and sit and listen to the voices in the trees. The dogs sit beside me.
Someone from Methodist Hospital calls to see how I am.
A scam man, claiming to be from the IRS, calls to say I owe money. I tell him he’s a crook and hang up.
September 11. One of my pending house projects happens today. Two men come to put in glass windows on my back porch so I can have a sun room. Now I have an eating space near the kitchen and a sunny place to edit my manuscript once I print it out. The only drawback is that I can see the bag-wormed tree from the window.
September 12. Today, I finish editing the manuscript on the computer, print it out, punch holes, put it in a binder. I’m ready for close editing in my new sunroom.
I called oncologist in afternoon. The biopsy confirms the spot on my lung is cancer. The doctor says he’ll send the results to the Radiology Department and someone will get back to me.
September 13. I haven’t heard from the Radiology Department so call the Oncology Department to see if the Radiology Department was contacted. (I no longer trust the Oncology Department.) I’m told the request was sent to Radiology, but there’s been no response. I ask for the phone number of Radiology. I have a long wait while the person confers with someone. When she returns to the phone, she says she’ll call me back later. I tell her she never calls me back, but she says she will this time.
Miracle of miracles! The Oncology Department calls me back with an appointment with the Radiology Department for September 18.
In the evening, watched The Spy on Netflix. Good film. That night, dream that I don’t have cancer at all—that it’s all been a mistake. I call that dreaming.
Next post: Another biopsy