In late August as I finished drafting what would be my eventual 3rd place team in the football fanatics fantasy league my friend Grandall just completed his required 6 hour "How to tell if your dental patient has cancer class". This was note worthy because I was 4 gin and tonics and 3 Miller lites into celebrating what I hoped would not be the third year of finishing 3rd in the league but also because he suddenly became aware of a strange brown cloud like design on my upper left shoulder. Nestled between a couple tattoos was, what I can best describe as three different colored brown clouds coming together with a bright red center. I have no idea how long it had been there and never noticed it before in my life. After examining it his conclusion, along with everyone eles there, was that I had to go get this checked out.
Being a man, and one that does not have a primary care physician nor seen a doctor for anything but broken bones and muscle tears but has had health insurance for over 10 years I didn't immediately go. I might have waited a little longer than I should have. After multiple threats from his wife about not going to my funeral when I die from cancer I looked online and picked one Aetna told me was within the 2 mile bubble of work and home. So I scheduled an appointment for the next week, which happened to fall the week before Turkey Day, which also meant the Grandall's would be in town. I had to take care of this so I wouldn't get yelled at for my impending death from the whole family. That's really the only reason I went in November.
The dermatologist looked at it and said he was pretty certain it was cancerous and had to come off. He also wanted to do a full run down of my moles and spots. You never know how many there are until you're spread eagle on a table when a guy is calling out 8,000 different moles of various sizes and their dimensions to someone jotting them down. It's a wonder every woman who ever saw me naked didn't shriek away in terror at the sight of all those moles, damn German/ English ancestry. After needing an excel spreadsheet to log my mutations he put me on my side and carved out a nickel size of skin. He explained it would need to sent to a lab for testing but I should be prepared to come back and donate some more skin and tissue. He was pretty adamant the skin was positive for melanoma. Sure enough. I went back and donated some more shoulder to the cancer cause. He carved a little farther down and a little more around the area, this time it looked fine but he still had to send it in. This next sample also came back positive for Melanoma both horizontal and vertical. He referred me to a surgeon and used doctor speak to say "Don't fuck around with this- we're in serious mode now".
I picked a nice sounding German name, I've had good luck with my people as doctors in the past, and went to Medical City. I walked past numerous people crying and held the elevator door open for a women in her late 30's who quietly sobbed out a 'thank you'. This is not what you want to see as you're going to the cancer doc. We both got off on the 7th floor and right in front of me was sign for an office that said "Terminal Cancer Ward". WHAT THE FUCK??? Whoever does the room assignments for medical city should be fired. I'm not in marketing or logistics but don't put the damn death ward as the first thing you see when you get off the elevator. Jesus, people. The room number for Das Doktor was all the way down the hall. Since it was Christmas time I heard carols played over the loud speaker at a very loud volume. I passed 2 separate families huddled together crying in front of another office that said "Terminal Heart and Organ Center". This just keeps getting better. People are crying down every hall because they just got last rites and god damn "Frosty the snowman, was jolly happy soul" is blaring at me. Maybe the volume was so loud to drown out the crying. Whatever it was I realized they put everyone that has any possibility of dying together on one floor. Childhood Lymphoma- check, Heart Failure- check, I was pretty sure if I went far enough down the hall I'd find the Ebola ward with that hot Asian nurse in it.
I filled out 30 something different forms and about 1,000 that related to insurance. Then waited 45 minutes past the time of my appointment. Has there ever been a doctor anytime in the history of medicine who was remotely on time? They took me into a room decorated with African art everywhere; spears, masks, rugs, I think there was even the dashiki James Earl Jones wore in 'Coming to America'. I sent a snap chat of a few photos to my friend Tae who was impressed that I was at an African Art museum on a Tuesday at 9:45am. I didn't explain it was a doctor's office, just took the props of being rich with culture and waited another 20 minutes for Heir Biertsch to come in. They set me up to an ultra sound machine and he noticed it my lymph nodes were inflamed. When he said "There it is" I looked at him with a serious face and said "So... I'm pregnant. With a cancer baby". Germans, don't have the best sense of humor. Apparently older white female PA's and young attractive Mexican assistants don't either. He promptly walked out of the room and left me in their care. They ran an EKG on me through my feet, not sure if this is normal or he was getting me back for the cancer baby comment. After that I waited another 20 minutes for his explanation that one of my lymph nodes was inflamed and since both sets of skin came back positive for Melanoma they needed to do surgery either today or the next day to remove 2 lymph nodes and some more skin. Fuuuuuuuuuuck.......
Being a man, and one that does not have a primary care physician nor seen a doctor for anything but broken bones and muscle tears but has had health insurance for over 10 years I didn't immediately go. I might have waited a little longer than I should have. After multiple threats from his wife about not going to my funeral when I die from cancer I looked online and picked one Aetna told me was within the 2 mile bubble of work and home. So I scheduled an appointment for the next week, which happened to fall the week before Turkey Day, which also meant the Grandall's would be in town. I had to take care of this so I wouldn't get yelled at for my impending death from the whole family. That's really the only reason I went in November.
The dermatologist looked at it and said he was pretty certain it was cancerous and had to come off. He also wanted to do a full run down of my moles and spots. You never know how many there are until you're spread eagle on a table when a guy is calling out 8,000 different moles of various sizes and their dimensions to someone jotting them down. It's a wonder every woman who ever saw me naked didn't shriek away in terror at the sight of all those moles, damn German/ English ancestry. After needing an excel spreadsheet to log my mutations he put me on my side and carved out a nickel size of skin. He explained it would need to sent to a lab for testing but I should be prepared to come back and donate some more skin and tissue. He was pretty adamant the skin was positive for melanoma. Sure enough. I went back and donated some more shoulder to the cancer cause. He carved a little farther down and a little more around the area, this time it looked fine but he still had to send it in. This next sample also came back positive for Melanoma both horizontal and vertical. He referred me to a surgeon and used doctor speak to say "Don't fuck around with this- we're in serious mode now".
I picked a nice sounding German name, I've had good luck with my people as doctors in the past, and went to Medical City. I walked past numerous people crying and held the elevator door open for a women in her late 30's who quietly sobbed out a 'thank you'. This is not what you want to see as you're going to the cancer doc. We both got off on the 7th floor and right in front of me was sign for an office that said "Terminal Cancer Ward". WHAT THE FUCK??? Whoever does the room assignments for medical city should be fired. I'm not in marketing or logistics but don't put the damn death ward as the first thing you see when you get off the elevator. Jesus, people. The room number for Das Doktor was all the way down the hall. Since it was Christmas time I heard carols played over the loud speaker at a very loud volume. I passed 2 separate families huddled together crying in front of another office that said "Terminal Heart and Organ Center". This just keeps getting better. People are crying down every hall because they just got last rites and god damn "Frosty the snowman, was jolly happy soul" is blaring at me. Maybe the volume was so loud to drown out the crying. Whatever it was I realized they put everyone that has any possibility of dying together on one floor. Childhood Lymphoma- check, Heart Failure- check, I was pretty sure if I went far enough down the hall I'd find the Ebola ward with that hot Asian nurse in it.
I filled out 30 something different forms and about 1,000 that related to insurance. Then waited 45 minutes past the time of my appointment. Has there ever been a doctor anytime in the history of medicine who was remotely on time? They took me into a room decorated with African art everywhere; spears, masks, rugs, I think there was even the dashiki James Earl Jones wore in 'Coming to America'. I sent a snap chat of a few photos to my friend Tae who was impressed that I was at an African Art museum on a Tuesday at 9:45am. I didn't explain it was a doctor's office, just took the props of being rich with culture and waited another 20 minutes for Heir Biertsch to come in. They set me up to an ultra sound machine and he noticed it my lymph nodes were inflamed. When he said "There it is" I looked at him with a serious face and said "So... I'm pregnant. With a cancer baby". Germans, don't have the best sense of humor. Apparently older white female PA's and young attractive Mexican assistants don't either. He promptly walked out of the room and left me in their care. They ran an EKG on me through my feet, not sure if this is normal or he was getting me back for the cancer baby comment. After that I waited another 20 minutes for his explanation that one of my lymph nodes was inflamed and since both sets of skin came back positive for Melanoma they needed to do surgery either today or the next day to remove 2 lymph nodes and some more skin. Fuuuuuuuuuuck.......
Insane! I didn't know you waited 4 months to go to the doctor. Bad Brad, bad!
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