It only seems much longer

After walking by the exam room and seeing me "arranging" Fredi's bed head,

Doc says to the nurse: Lori was grooming Fredi. I thought that was cute.

__________________________

During the physical exam, Doc mentions he has known me for a while now, and he says it's been about four years. I know we met in April 2007, and I say to him, "Actually, I'm pretty sure, it's been almost three years."

Doc: It seems much longer.

Me: Is that good or bad?

Doc: I don't know.

_____________________________

After the exam, I put back on just my bra and zippered hoodie. I'm not going to get fully dressed until after the nurse accesses my Port-A-Cath chemo port. I walk out into the hallway for a minute to ask a question, forgetting the hoodie isn't zipped up, so my bra is showing a bit.

Doc is in the back room, sees me standing there in the hallway and tells me:

Be careful, Lori. Don't go wandering around here half naked. There's a bunch of old men.

____________________________

Apparent pharmaceutical rep: Hi, Doctor, a friend of yours, Dr. Arnold, sent me.

Doc: Dr. Arnold sent you? You must have some freebies for me then!

Rep: No, no freebies.

Doc: No freebies?

Later

Doc: So who are you?

Rep: I'm David Kellum.

Doc: No, I mean who are you, what are you doing here?

Rep: Well, as I mentioned, Dr. Arnold--

Doc: [getting impatient and loud] No, no, I want to know what you do.

Rep: I'm from the West Coast Diagnostics Company, and--

Doc: No, no, no. You're not understanding me. Hold on a minute. [He leaves the room].

____________________________

While You Were Sleeping

Doc walks by the couch where I am sleeping during chemo. He may or may not remember from the physical exam that I have long johns on under my jeans. I'm wearing a Yankees short-sleeved t-shirt under a knit black sweater with a pink hoodie on top.

I'm also wearing calf-length fuzzy warm green and purple striped socks on my feet, brown leather gloves on my hands, a red and white head scarf with the hood of the jacket pulled over the scarf. I have a pillow under my head, a winter coat underneath me, and two fleece blankets on top of me.

Doc announces to anyone who might be listening: I think we better turn up the heat. Lori looks cold.

All names except mine and Fredi's are changed for privacy reasons.

My Boots and the Second Leg

While I'm on the exam table on Tuesday, the doctor looks at my snow boots, which are not meant to be fashionable but I think they are cute, Doc says to me: Lori, those boots are not very glam.

This leads indirectly into a story about my niece when she was younger talking about her left leg and calling it her "second leg."

Doc tells me, "You must have read my mind!" and then tells me a sort of related story about telling his 19-month-old grandson to raise his right hand, and the doc's son chimes in and says, "Oh, he'll never learn the difference!"

Then the Doc leaves our exam room, partially shuts the door behind him, and enthusiastically tells the nurses, "Lori just read my mind!"

History

I visit my doctor weekly for chemotherapy treatment for metastatic breast cancer. He has been my oncologist for almost three years, and he routinely comes up with off-the-cuff comments that amuse me and my husband, Fredi, and sometimes touch us in unexpected ways. Today I started thinking that maybe others would enjoy reading them, too.

Here are some historical quotes to get this party started. All names except mine and Fredi's are changed.
___________________

You're the first patient in the world to ever get this drug regimen.

5/1/07

Phone call from Doctor: How are you doing today?

Me: I'm constipated, hyper and irritable.

Doc: Well, you SOUND great! [Pause] And I'm privileged to take care of you.

5/16/07

I was going to the hospital for sinus surgery.

Doc said, referring to my surgical team: Tell them if they kill you, I'll shoot them.

10/7/08

In a booming voice: I need a naked person in the exam room! 3/25/09

I can't find your liver. [Long Pause] Which is good news for you!

3/31/09

I was so worried about you last night that I couldn't sleep.

4/21/09

Me: What are the side effects of this medication?

Doc: Only one you need to worry about, but it's very rare.

Me: What is it?

Doc: Catastrophe.

5/2009

Me: Does this have one have any serious side effects?

Doc: Not really. It's rare, but sometimes people go deaf.

5/2009

About me: Is she sleeping? Like really sleeping? I don't want to damage her psyche.

8/2009

___________________

After a reaction I had to chemotherapy that could have been fatal:

Doc: If we give this drug to you again, we'll have an endotrach tube right at hand in case we need it.

Me: When was the last time you intubated anyone?

Doc: Oh, probably about 30 years ago.

Me: If you called 911 do you think they would get here in time?

Doc: Maybe.

9/1/09

Via telephone on a week I wasn't scheduled for chemotherapy: So, do you want to come in and get some chemo tomorrow?

12/3/09

Doc: So how are you?

Me: I'm feeling okay, but I've been very, very tired lately [having been on weekly chemo for 10 months or so].

Doc: So am I, but I have a lot better reason than you to be tired.

1/19/10

Me: I have a lot of really painful muscle aches.

Doc: You're supposed to.

1/19/10

Heard around the office and/or undated:

Doctor to the Nurse Kristen: Mrs. Baffenbacher wants a spinal tap.

Mr. Reardon wants his blood drawn.

Kristen, Lori wants to be accessed.

To me: Kristen tells me you like me. I have no idea why.