Part 46 Swimming


I regroup, and take steps to move on. I drive Brooke to the pool to see Breanna’s first swim meet (she and her mother are already there). Bree is frightened. At last week’s practice meet, she had a false start during a freestyle race, setting off a flurry of whistle blowing that had her sobbing from humiliation. She was then asked to compete in a backstroke race, cried over this, and wound up swimming freestyle instead. The only motivation to continue in the event was to get a prized ribbon. After the meet, I take the girls to a friend’s skating party, where I spend most of my time spitting in trashcans (trying to be subtle, of course). We come home and find Bree has a fever of 103.5. Scared, we bathe her in warm water, and she improves.



Part 47 Brothers in arms


On Sunday morning I receive a surprise phone call from my youngest brother David, who lives in Austin. He shocks me with the disclosure that he will require surgery and/or chemo and radiation to treat his enlarged prostate. What are the odds!? I am devastated that he must join me on this frightening journey. He is confused about how to attack this problem, confronted with multiple options and a list of possible side effects from each.

I visit the surgery center the next morning for another scope of my esophagus. They discover that it is covered with many ulcers, and it could be up to two months before the esophagus is clean. I am required to return in another month. This distresses me, knowing that it will be even longer before I can return to my normal eating habits. I sip a little water that trickles down painfully, then I abruptly throw it up. Again I am overwhelmed by the unfairness of this all. I realize there is much more work ahead that I must prepare myself for. I, like my brother, must take up my weapons and go to battle.

My next meeting with Dr.Bu- leaves me filled with uncertainty and with more questions than answers regarding the nature of the ulcers in my neck and esophagus. I exit his office accompanied by Becah, who also is upset about the skills of our doctors. Mistakes have been made (including my initial diagnosis), at my expense. Can we trust any of these professionals to lead us along the correct path of action? Is there a correct path? We visit another gastroenterologist, Dr. A-, who has also consulted with me before. His nurse gives me a prescription for pills to be ingested with applesauce. But I can’t eat anything at this point. “Don’t they even know their patients?” Becah laments, and she begins to cry as we walk out of the office.