Well, today was round two for the second biopsy. Depending heavily on the strangeness of kindness, I asked two dear friends to take me to Mission Hospital in Asheville for this...event.
Having checked in and sat in the waiting room with some SERIOUS mountain folk (one's surname was "Boothe"... I was curious if there was a "Wilkes" prior to that), and then striking up a conversation with a lovely Ukrainian admitting nurse about Crimea (she couldn't believe that I knew the place... well, it IS lovely) I was hauled off to radiology where they gave me the hospital issue cotton pajamas. VERY ventilated.
They stuck me, prodded me and wheeled me off to the room where lieth The Machine That Goes Ping.
Apparently they needed five times the drugs as I was not going down quietly. Again, I was a roadie for a band in the 80s... tolerance is high.
I remember nothing except snoring in Triage and disturbing Betty Sue Bob Ann Maybelle Two Annie across the way from me with my log sawing, but what I do NOT remember was proposing to my doctor... wholeheartedly... and not taking no for an answer. If THAT is all I did, I consider today successful.
I'll know if things are good in a couple of days.
