[Magdalen] "TREATMENT!!!"

[M J _Mike_ Logsdon]

(Ala "Animal" on the Muppet Show.)

I got a call today from my main doctoral contact at Stanford, and she said that while they're still awaiting final results from the Deep Biopsy, there's concurrence between her and the two other docs that some sort of treatment can begin specific to my legs and feet right now.  So, she called in a prescription for me for something that will act as a "stop sign" for my errant "neutrophils".  (Strang, et al, please feel free to discuss openly; I *think* I get it.)  There's a slew of potential side effects, but who gives a sh*t?  Bring it on!  I was complaining this morning to myself about how damn long I'm having to wait for some relief.  Yay.

On the non-yay front, I called the imaging center where I'll be getting my PET scan on the 29th, and confirmed that either I heard wrong on the day the appt was set up, OR I was told an untruth.  I'm 98% certain I was told I'd be *drinking* the radioactive isotope.  Seemed weird to me, but I swear it's what I heard.  So, of course I look up the procedure, and all over the place it's about needles in veins all over again.  I had it confirmed for me I'll be hooked up to an IV for 25 minutes.  Jesus Christ.  Oh well.  (If my brain did "translate accordingly", anyone else here ever done so so egregiously -- not a shard of steel in the arm, but a dixie cup of koolaid.)

(Anna said to me recently "You probably couldn't handle getting a tattoo, huh?"  I said "Hell yes I could.  Because it WOULDN'T BE A MEDICAL ENVIRONMENT!")