A CAT/Katz Kind of Day.

I had a CAT scan done this week at NYU in the city. Frank and I have made a tradition out of the day, by having the CAT scan done, following with a meal at the famous Katz’s Deli on Houston Street, so we refer to it as our CAT/Katz kind of day. 

So, like everything else in the last couple of months, I tend to look at things that happen in my life with more perspective, more analysis, and a lot more appreciation. I am a people watcher, so you can sit me just about anywhere, and I can entertain myself for quite a while by watching the people around me. Especially in a restaurant when I see two people at a table, I immediately try to figure out their scenario. Father/daughter or boss/assistant, husband/mistress, or two friends, sisters, siblings, cousins I think you get the idea. But of late, my ideas take me to a different place of curiosity. I look at their overall appearance, I look to see if a lady is wearing a wig, or if I see someone limping, I wonder what is causing it. I have become so aware of my own health, that now I look at other peoples too.  

Prior to going for my CAT scans, I have to pre-medicate because I am allergic to the contrast die they inject into me to get the images. Of course I am allergic! Why not!?  So, I take Prednisone (a steroid) the night before and again that morning, to help counter act any reaction I may have. Also, I cannot eat for 3 hours before the exam. By the time I get to the hospital, the steroids are in full swing, and I am talking 100 words every 12 seconds, my leg is bouncing and I am hyped. The really good thing about the steroids, is they take away all of my pains. So now I am hyped up, pain free, and reallllllly hungry! Ok, we sign in, sit and wait for the barium for me to drink. YUM! Fruity Tuity! So delish… actually, it is not that bad, and goes down pretty easily. I also have to now take 2 Benadryl’s (also to help any allergic reaction), and in 15 minutes I go from whhhhhhhhheeeeeeee let’s have a party; to… does anyone have a pillow?   

Sadly, the nurses and radiologists know me here. They come out and call each patient one by one with a questionable tone as they say each name, not knowing who will be answering. When it is my turn, she calls “Nanci Cacossa” first with a question, then say’s “oh! It’s you! How are you?” Great… what an honor for me to be known so well at the Radiology floor!  

This time, Evan joined us, so as we waited the hour for me to drink my Fruity-Tuity,  Frank reads the paper then nods off for a bit (he has been up since 3:00 AM, it is now 5 PM), Evan is typing away on his phone, blogging for his Islanders Checking Line assignment, and me….. I am watching. Hummm, the girl across from me seems very healthy. She is young, pretty, thin... I wonder why she is here. Then they give her the barium drink… Uh oh! Stomach issues…  She had noticed I also was drinking the potion, and started to ask me a lot of questions on how this stuff would affect her. I can tell she is very nervous so I calmly tell her how my body processes it, but explain that everyone is different, but not to worry, she is in good hands. More questions… I answer… She seems to be a little more at ease now which is good for her. I REALLY wanted to ask her why she was there, but common sense told me not to… Ahhhh, out comes the woman who is dressed like she is a CEO of some kind of bank. Ya know, very businesslike, standing and walking straight up, she is skinny with heels on from Easy Spirit. Yup, there she goes, boy does she remind me of Mrs. Hendrickson (a 6th grade teacher - real meany)… No eye contact going in, none coming out. Bye, and have a great day, I thought. But then the notion came to me about why she may have been there, and why she may not have been smiling or making eye contact, remembering she wasn’t there for a social visit. I wonder what is wrong with her, and to myself I hope that she is OK and finds her smile again.  And then, there was “the man”, the one who keeps smiling my way trying to bring up a conversation with me. He sat there drinking his gallon of water (no barium for him), his legs were crossed wearing beige slacks, his black coat was folded across his lap, and his arms were crossed over his coat. This whole image struck me odd. Here he was trying to make eye contact and chat, yet every part of his body language was saying, “leave me alone.”… Again, no clue as to why he was there, one thing about this place is they are VERY private. As I was heading in for my exam, a much older gentleman was being assisted out. He had a portable oxygen tank with him and the hoses up to his nose. Now with him, I had an idea of why he was there, and all I could think of was how difficult his days could be having to lug that huge tank around with him where ever he went. But that tank is his lifeline. I bet he has very strong shoulders.  

I go in, I lay down, I smile for the imaging machine. They inject me with the contrast, they take another set of pics, and then my eyes, ears and throat start itching, my nose starts running, test is over. They escort me to a waiting room, and give me a blanket and hot tea and monitor me for about 15 minutes to make sure I am ok to go. I am good to go, and Frank, Evan and I go to Katz’s Deli!

I love Katz’s. Not only do I think they have the best pastrami in town, I love the whole hustle and bustle of the place. Six men standing behind the counter cutting up pastrami, corned beef and brisket for sandwiches, while putting samples on plates on top of the counter for customers to try. Each man has a “TIP” cup in front of him, as he yells out “NEXT, step down please” to those waiting on line. We always tip them, because the more you tip, the bigger your sandwich!

“Three pastrami’s on rye please, two with mustard, and we like the half sour pickles not the sour ones please”… they are so happy to oblige, especially when they see you tip them!

We get our sandwiches, fries and potato latkes, and split everything. Total enjoyment.  

Again, I sit and watch all the folks around us. New York City, has some very interesting people there, so this is really a great show for me! Here I don’t think of medical issues though, I think of what their lives are like. Where they work, where they came from, what language is that!!?? Oh, the pastrami is so good…  

Time to hurry home now, because the barium/contrast die cocktail is starting to make noises in my stomach. This means I need to be home within the hour! Whew… made it in time…  

The results came back today. I am not surprised at all. Some of the cancer spots are the same, others show mild increases in size. The newest of chemos (Abraxine) is not working. It is supposed to be part of the Taxol family and work better than Taxol. But, as I have always thought, a medicine only works as well as the individuals body will allow it to. I will probably start yet another chemo type on Tuesday. I wish Dr. S. would let me try the Taxol again. He has the product, and the allergic reaction I had is an enigma to all on many levels. I still say it was a fluke, and let’s try again. He feels that once an allergic reaction presents itself, it is not worth to take a chance and put one’s life on the line for their throat to close up. I guess that’s why I am not the doctor and he is! 

 Not to be a “Debbie-Downer” so to speak, but I am a realist, and have a very good understanding of what the statistics say about the life span expectancies for ovarian cancer patients. I recognize that some women can fight it once and never have to look back again. I know that others can fight once or twice and may not come back for years or ever. Then there is me. I have been fighting on and off (MOSTLY on) for three years, and as of now, I still have a fair amount of the disease in me and have not been in remission for a year. And if I do go into remission, the question is for only how long before the beast resurfaces itself, for me to fight it again? According to what statistics say, life expectancy for OC patients such as me is about 5 years. My dear friend Louisa lived only for 4 years after her diagnosis, and although her journey was much different than mine, and more difficult, the reality is right in front of me. In the last two months or so, I have been listening to the whispers my body has been telling me with its pains and weakness, and I feel it is fair to say, that I will be part of this statistic, which really sucks, but it’s OK. I still have time to live, love and breathe, and that is what I will do for as long as my body allows me.

Harley... He just always knows. xoxo