Complications from my cancer sent me to the hospital again recently. The news that I was in trouble came unexpectedly from my oncologist’s office Thanksgiving eve, following a routine blood test. “Your liver numbers are out of whack.” My response was “Really?” as if I’d been notified that my driver’s license had expired.
I was diagnosed with a blocked bile duct and I missed the turkey and cranberry sauce. My oncologist called in a gastroenterologist, who scheduled a procedure to open the blocked duct. But my tissues were too distorted to complete the procedure, so the next day an interventional radiologist inserted a bile drain. I met him seconds before I drifted into sedation. When it was over and I was awakening, he offered me a cheery “good luck” as I rolled out the door. I never saw him again.