SEQUELS

(this post written by Kathleen, Margies youngest and likely brattiest child)

We've all seen that movie. The good one that left us wanting more. Or the bad one that surprised us that it even got as far as it did.
And then the sequel comes out.
Yes, a poor attempt at metaphor: Cancer as sequel. My first thought when Margie got the diagnosis: Really? Does anyone deserve cancer a second time?! Yes, I know, no one deserves it a first time. Most of us, some of us have had things happen to us or to loved ones that are not "deserved" but stuff comes our way and we deal with the cards we are dealt.
She dealt. Six years ago. But now. Again.

I have to stop harping on this, I know. I've been mulling it over for the last three weeks and it still won't settle in. Cancer a second time for someone that is now depleted because of Cancer's first visit is just so...wrong.

But I'm the original author of this blog and as the universally acknowledged truth of blogs go: my blog, my opinion. If you don't want to read it...shove off.

Ok.....That up there is my moment of frustration. Just putting it out to the universe cause it's sure not doing me any benefit to internalize. Done. Finished. Moving on....

YESTERDAY

I drove Margie over to Virginia Mason to get her radiation on the left leg, plus a bonus dermatology appointment for an annual mole patrol. (p.s. if you're part of this family, consider getting your many moles checked. Oh, and use that spf. Just sayin)

Dad (Robert) has been doing the drive back and forth for twelve days and as it gets pretty much mind numbingly tedious , I thought he deserved a little time off so I took over the driving yesterday and will again today.

(some of my writing is going to be a bit of catch up and background so as to fill in those of you not familiar with the colloquialisms of island living or the traveling to and fro required when one is being treated for cancer and how it's so not very convenient. ever.

Margie and I drove down to the ferry terminal, got in line for a 10:20 boat.  A little confusion at the toll booth: senior? uh, wha?  But I'm the baby of the family....  She was talking about Margie, but as my sensitivity to all things AARP is at a hyper sensitive level, I have a hair-trigger reaction to being accused of actually aging.
Once in line with the hoards of cars waiting for the boat, I was disappointed to find out that it wouldn't be necessary to flash our "medical boarding" pass that Margie mentioned in the previous post.
Thank you Colleen! What a huge relief! If one is unlucky enough to be part of the daily commuter experience on the island, you get to experience first hand not being able to board your vessel at the  preferred crossing time, and having to wait one or two hours for the next one. For someone traveling back and forth to a hospital, already flipping tired out from it all, that can be just a wee glimpse o' hell.

Of course, I'd like the medical boarding pass to include one of those nifty sirens that slap onto the top of the car and sing out some "wee- woo" warning. Think french flick, circa 1979.

Oh, but as mere mortals, we found our spot in line, turned off the engine and amused ourselves by plugging into the cigarette lighter all usb connectors that were attached to some device or another and speculating whether that they did indeed drain the battery whilst the car was turned off.

Gawd, if you've made it this far....

ok, ok, ferry crossing, dock in seattle, up the hill, blah, blah, blah.

First up: dermatology. Oh, but look: we are one and a half hours early for the appointment! How did that happen? I have no idea!
But we make the most of it by zipping into the "medical spa" nestled into the dermatology area. Naturally, Margie and I screech to a halt (I'm pushing her in a wheel chair, so there is actual screeching involved) right in front of a display of Dermalogica brand products, all promising anti-aging with the tempting sub-category of "resurfacing"

sign me up!!

A couple hundred dollars later, the nurse comes in and tells us that the doctor can take Margie early!
Yipee! Save me from sinking another several hundred dollars into big promises beauty products!
I snatch up my wee bag of liquid sandpaper, er, resurfacing creams, and off we go to see about the moles!

Luckily, Margie has only a tiny suspicious spot, so we leave with just a tiny surface scrape and a bandaid to cover it. Naturally, I want the Doc to give me a freebie consult- can't you just burn this thingy over here off, I'm her daughter, yes, that's a melanoma scar on my shoulder, but no-go. He's all business and no games for me. Poo. note to self: schedule my mole patrol.

Virginia Mason Hospital, like many big city hospitals, is a wonderfully complex maze of buildings and sky bridges, hallways and corridors, lobbies and parking garages. Our task was to get from Dermatology on the 9th of the Lubowski (?) corridor, over the sky bridge in another wing,  to the oncology floor and then on to the basement (shouldn't they just call it the dungeon?) for radiology. (how appropriate)
Naturally, thanks to the zippy staff in Dermatology, we have  time on our hands. And what better way to burn time then find our way to the gift shop!
But even better, we make good use of Margies wheel chair: I propel the wheel chair toward the elevator button and her challenge is to push the button whilst zipping by, if she misses, we have to loop around in a huge, dizzying circle and try again. Weeeee!

Ever had to spend the day in a hospital? yes? then you understand.

That concludes part one of our adventures....I have to get ready to get to the ferry! Haha!

xo
kathleen