I’m busy getting ready for my thyroidectomy.
I first checked on my pre-op labs which were drawn on 23-July. They hadn’t shown up on LabCorp’s patient portal by 01-August which had me worried. I checked with the surgery center and the surgeon’s office, and they hadn’t received them either. As such things go, that could just be a trivial inconvenience where the surgery center has to call the lab early on my surgery date and get the results. On the other hand, if the lab has actually lost the sample, it could mean a disaster — we’d have to reschedule the procedure (for which my life is already on hold). For all I’ve gotten excellent customer service from LabCorp, they don’t offer any way to ask them questions except through a cursed contact form. I filled out the horrid form and, other than an automated “we got it but don’t reply to this” email, I heard nothing. By Monday afternoon (my surgery was on Thursday), I’d still heard nothing. HA and I went to the “service center” where they had drawn my blood. A very friendly and helpful worker chased down the labs and promised to have them sent to the surgeon. A few hours later, HA called the surgeon’s office who couldn’t say whether they’d gotten them or not. HA doggedly stayed on the phone until the receptionist checked the fax machine and found that they had, indeed, arrived.
Today, I finally got a response to the contact form. Apparently the results got hung up because I was listed as female one place and male as another. I’m not sure how that justifies total silence for over a week, but they now seem to have my gender identity issues sorted out. Perhaps better than I do. Anyway, disaster averted as I now have a copy of the results in my hand.
Going into surgery is as good a time as any to think about end-of-life issues, and I realized that most of my life is tightly locked up under a web of access controls and encryption. From being able to view my bank accounts to my bitcoin wallet (another story!) to get at the scanned documents that most folks would have in a physical filing cabinet, those access codes might be crucial (or at least helpful) in sorting out my estate. So I created a multi-part decryption key and distributed it on paper to trusted family members. That meant writing essentially good-bye letters to people I hold most dear. In spite of it being largely an academic issue (I probably take bigger risks driving on the freeway), it was a pretty emotional experience at a time when I’m already plenty scared. It doesn’t matter whether being scared “makes sense” or not, I think I’d have to be a fool to not be concerned about heading for cancer surgery — on my neck!
So we’re deciding which vehicle might be most comfortable for my trip back from the surgery center (yes, it’s a same-day procedure) and how to configure the bed to keep my head raised. Mundane stuff that HA is largely taking off my shoulders.
Oh, the endocrinology referral finally came through, after I sent my horror story to Dignity Health’s patient advocate, so I’ll at least get to see the endocrinologist the day before the surgery. That’s good, as there appear to be no endocrinologists where I’m headed and the nearest one on a nearby island is currently booking new patients for December. I’m not sure how much good it will do to have a doctor whose office cannot be reached by phone or online for questions or scheduling, but it’s probably good to at least have the consultation. So that’s tomorrow, and then the day after I will be under the knife.
I’m not sure how long it will be before I’m able to write an update, but I’ll get to it as soon as I can. If you’re in my coveted inner circle, and you don’t hear from me directly, you can contact HA for updates.
—2p