Health
Arrival time: 9:47 AM
Appointment time: 10:00 AM
Exam Room entry: 10:07 AM
Doctor arrival: 10:49 AM
”Sorry to keep you waiting,” he said. I think he was having an asthma attack. I had never seen him huff and puff like that before. Dr. Amari had been my primary care provider for nearly five years, a record, if you don’t count my childhood pediatrician.
”No problem, I’m not in a rush.” I actually was in a rush. It was in the middle of the workday, but I didn’t want to make him feel bad.
”Tell me. What’s going on?” Dr. Amari asked as he got situated.
”This is my follow-up from last month. You asked me to schedule with you after I had the coagulated blood in my stool.”
”That’s right. Why do you think that was?”
I said, “Are you asking me?”
”Yes, what caused the coagulated blood in your stool?”
”Last month, you mentioned it had to do with being on blood thinners.”
”Why were you on blood thinners?”
”I had my hip replacement eight weeks ago.”
He looked confused and flipped through some papers.
”You signed off on it and did the pre-op in this office. EKG and all.”
He replied, “Yes. Forgive me.”
”So why do you think you had blood in your stool?”
I shrugged, ”Blood thinners?”
”Did you do blood work? Did you see a GI specialist?”
”No, you just asked me to schedule with you in a month. It’s been a month.”
”Have you started running yet?”
”Not yet, Dr. Burke told me to wait another six weeks. He said three months total so that the hip can bond properly.”
“Have you considered the stationary bike? Maybe the elliptical? Something less impactful?”
”Sure, I’ve considered it, but it’s not the same.”
”Running causes a lot of wear and tear on your joints. I don’t advise it. I know it’s addictive, but you should consider other alternatives.” He paused. “Any more blood in your stool? How about when you wipe?”
”No, nothing.”
”That’s good.” He stroked a few keys on his overly large HP Windows-based laptop. It looked like a pile of shit. Stains and dings all over it, and it needed a thorough microfiber cleaning. I noticed the hinges creak when he initially opened it.
I did have a lingering matter I wanted to go over, besides the bloody stool.
”I’m thinking about an offramp in regards to my anxiety meds. What do you think of Ativan?”
”It’s not a great solution for you, in my opinion,” he said. “We all have anxiety that we have to deal with on a daily basis. You can’t just pop a pill and expect it to make us better.”
”Sure I can, I’ve been doing it off and on for twenty-five years,” I said sarcastically.
Unamused by my skepticism, Dr. Amari replied, ”Next time you feel anxious, try popping a multivitamin. See if that helps. You know, placebo effect.”
Surely he wasn’t serious, but I couldn’t tell.
”You’ve lost a few pounds since your last visit.”
”From last month?”
”Yes.” He was staring at his screen, not looking at me.
”I recall it being cold last time I was here. I was probably wearing layers. I’ve been the same weight for a year and a half. I monitor and track it at home. I weigh myself nude. You know how I enjoy charts? I track it just like my blood pressure graph.”
”Makes sense,” he replied.
I found the exchange funny: Is that all you have to do to convince your doctor that your weight hasn’t fluctuated? Merely tell them you're wearing extra clothing - “You’ve gained weight…” “Nah, doc, I’m wearing a parka.”
He believed me because I’ve never given him a reason not to. I’ve never lied to him, except when I tell him I’m not in a hurry. He’s stuffy, his bedside manners aren’t great, and I’ve never seen him more than smirk, but we have a good rapport. I like and trust him. I’ve been a lifelong doctor hopper, so it’s been nice maintaining the half-decade courtship.
His asthma seemed under control at this point, and while thinking about his difficulty while breathing, I felt sorry for him for a moment. Empathy. I hoped he had a physician in his life who could help with his ailments, as he had helped me.
And he had helped me a lot.
In the past few years, Dr. Amari had assisted in the treatment of my anxiety, weight management, allergies, and hypertension, and ultrasounds were performed on my thyroid and testicles. He also flagged an odd-looking nodule on my left lung via X-ray during my pre-operative screening for my hip replacement and ordered an immediate CT scan be performed.
I secured a time slot for the scan right before my hip procedure, knowing the results wouldn’t come until afterward.
His nurse, Lisa, called and said, “Dr. Amari would like to see you today. The results of your CT scan are in.”
”Today? That’s unfortunate, I cannot drive yet. I just had surgery last week, “ I said.
”The note says for you to come in as soon as possible and that he’d like to review them with you. How’s today at 3?”
Fuck.
I made my way to his office, gingerly took the stairs as I let people pass me by. The elevator was non-functional. The incision wound was still fresh, and my hip was swollen up similarly in the shape of a footlong Subway sandwich. My pants didn’t fit right, although I was able to buckle my belt. I had barely showered, and this was the first time I had left the house since my operation. It felt a little too soon to be out. My leg had just been sawn off the week prior.
He was late.
Dr. Amari bumbled into the room, glanced at me up on the bed, and said, “Hello, Mr. Lewis. You doing OK? What’s up with the cane?”
”What’s up with the cane? Are you joking?”
He replied with a testy attitude, ”No, is everything OK?”
”I had my goddamn hip replaced last week!”
He said, “With Dr. Burke, right? How’d that go? How are you doing?” He conveniently glossed over the part where he didn’t remember — he’s a real pro.
”My first trip out of my house. I put on shoes to see you, but I’d say I’m doing OK.”
”Good, good,” he said. “How’s your pain management?”
The old manipulative side of me momentarily reemerged. I knew exactly how to phrase my response.
”Who sends over my refill? You or Burke?”
”I can fax it over to CVS. No problem.”
I was hoping to double-up on the Hydrocodone prescription, but the pharmacy flagged it.
Once an addict, always an addict.
”When do you see Dr. Burke for your post-op follow-up?”
”Next Tuesday. The 16th, I believe.”
”How are your allergy medications? Do you need a refill?”
”No, I think I’m good for now.”
”Just call Lisa if you need refills. I would be happy to send them over for you. Anything else for today?”
I froze.
”Yeah, I’m here for the results of the CT Scan. Lisa called me to come in.”
”Hmm, yes,” he said. “That’s right.”
He licked his thumb and handed me a piece of paper that read:
”FINDINGS:
Thyroid gland: Homogenous.
Lymphadenopathy: None.
Heart: Normal in size. There is no coronary artery calcification.
Aorta and pulmonary artery trunk: Normal in size.
Trachea: Patent.
Lungs: There is a 10 mm upper lobe calcified granuloma correlating with the chest x-ray findings. Lungs are otherwise clear with no lobar consolidation, pleural effusion, or pneumothorax. No emphysema or chronic interstitial lung disease. No suspicious pulmonary nodules.”
While continuing to type on his shitty laptop, he said, ”Come see me in a month.”
”Wait. Hold on. What does this mean?” I asked.
”The results?”
”Yes, the results!”
He replied, ”The findings were all clear. The nodule is benign.”
I burst out in laughter, and he tilted his head like a Pug when you call its name. Actually, he sort of looks like a Pug when I think about it. And breathes like one too.
”You called me into the office to see you, seven days after a hip replacement, to inform me that the nodule in my lung was benign? I’ve gone over every worst-case scenario in my head for the past five hours, considering where I should do my chemo, should my parents fly into town…”
Dr. Amari butted in, “As I said, it’s benign, there’s nothing to worry about.”
”Right, but I didn’t know that until 90 seconds ago. I assumed if it were nothing, you’d just call me. Like when you ultrasounded my balls last year.”
"Relax,” he said. “It’s OK, You’re OK.”
”Yes, I realize I am OK. But you’re not understanding the absurdity of this situation. I hadn’t put on socks until today. My surgery was seven days ago. I limped my ass in here just to see you.”
”And you’re doing well, Mr. Lewis. When you check out, let them know you need to come and see me again in a month.”