Ologists Have Entered the Chat
Remember in our last update when we said Dave had to go back to Northwestern on Monday, September 14, because his MyChart showed a scheduled nephroureteral stent exchange?
We assumed this referred to the stents placed during his August 24 reconstructive surgery.
Because I am driven forward by a pathological need to understand everything that is happening at all times, I started wondering why the appointment said “exchange” instead of “removal.”
So, the Thursday before the appointment, I messaged Northwestern to ask what exactly was supposed to be happening.
The interventional radiologist messaged back:
They were planning to replace Dave’s percutaneous nephrostomy tube.
You know the tube he no longer has.
The tube that was REMOVED DURING HIS SURGERY THREE WEEKS EARLIER.
Cool, cool.
After confirming that the appointment was, in fact, no longer necessary, we celebrated the fact that we were finally going to spend a Monday somewhere other than the Galter and Feinberg Pavilions.
JUST KIDDING.
Dave started running a fever Sunday night.
So, Monday morning, we were right back at Northwestern.
I went with Dave so my mom could go to work Monday afternoon because in America, being sick means dividing and conquering even when nobody wants to.
Once we were settled into the familiar confines of the oncology triage clinic, the nurses got to work drawing blood and taking samples.
It was immediately clear that Dave’s urine culture was as abnormal as Mitch McConnell showing up to work.
Clumps of white blood cells, anyone? (would it be too much to insert another Mitch McConnell joke here?)
They also wanted a CT scan to make sure there weren't any mysterious pockets of infection hiding somewhere since his surgery at the end of August.
Nearly two hours later, Dave came out of the CT scan shaking uncontrollably. They had to secure his arms and legs during the scan to keep him still enough to get the images they needed. While the original plan was to do the CT with contrast, his bloodwork came back showing his kidney function was too compromised to safely clear the contrast dye.
We made it back up to the 17th floor oncology clinic and got as far as the first chair before his shaking went into overdrive, triggering coughing and gagging.
As much as I want to be helpful, there are two things I absolutely cannot handle:
Children wiggling loose teeth.
People who look like they are about to throw up.
In a truly shameful moment of “you are on your own,” I threw his hospital blanket at him and yelled:
“ARE YOU GOING TO THROW UP? DAVE, I CAN’T.”
To be clear, he did not throw up. The shaking and gagging were part of the whole miserable song and dance, and he was eventually calmed down enough to get back into the clinic room.
They hooked him up to fluids while we waited for the CT results.
Unfortunately, nobody was particularly happy with his bloodwork. His kidney function was severely compromised, and the CT showed that his right kidney — formerly known as THE GOOD KIDNEY — had now taken on fluid.
The clinic doctor consulted with his latest surgeon (still don't like him), and Dave was prescribed antibiotics for what was now his fifth urinary tract infection. Because his kidneys are currently functioning about as well as Congress, his antibiotic dosage and schedule had to follow a strict kidney protocol.
After picking up the antibiotics, we finally headed home, eight hours after we left that morning.
While we were told to return Wednesday for more fluids and repeat bloodwork, Wednesday brought more sub-par news.
The fluids had done very little to improve Dave’s kidney function, and with his creatinine hovering near 3, the lack of improvement pointed toward something more structural.
Which raised a very reasonable question:
How could there be a structural problem when we literally reconstructed his insides three weeks ago?
We have no idea. His surgeon remains adamant that it has nothing to do with the surgery.
Okay.
Thursday brought the appointment we had been waiting for: a follow-up with Dave’s oncologist extraordinaire, Dr. Maha Hussain.
She reviewed the medical treatment Dave has received over the past four months and was immediately unhappy with what she saw. Thankfully, she also appeared to have activated her Eldest Daughter Capricorn Emergency Response System™ and immediately started putting together a thorough, efficient plan.
While there is a new spot on Dave’s lung that she wants to follow closely, it’s currently too small to do anything about, so for now, it’s a watch-and-wait situation.
Her biggest concern right now is his kidney function — or, more accurately, his lack thereof.
Dave already has an appointment with a nephrologist (kidney specialist) on October 20, but Dr. Hussain is trying to get that appointment moved up.
True MVP behavior.
She also reviewed Dave’s iron, ferritin and hemoglobin levels and said they are consistent with what she would expect to see in someone experiencing internal bleeding.
The problem? Dave is not experiencing internal bleeding.
So now we need to see a benign hematologist to figure out why his bloodwork reads like the sequel to Carrie.
And because apparently, we haven't collected enough medical specialties yet, the clinic also wants Dave to see an infectious disease doctor.
Which brings our current Ologist Total™ to approximately one million.
So, where are we now?
Dave's kidneys suck.
His white blood cells are working harder than Congress in an election year. (To be clear, unlike Congress, they’re actually working.)
And October is shaping up to be a Northwestern punch card competition. Once we visit enough, do we ever get one free?
Here is the current itinerary for the Ologist Tour 2026™ (featuring Macklemore, but def not Ed Sheeran):
10/7: Follow-up with Urologic Reconstructive Surgeon
10/8: Infectious Disease
10/9: Stoma Nurse Check-In
10/20: Nephrologist
10/28: Hematologist
10/29: Oncologist
So, if you were wondering what we’ll be doing in October, the answer is apparently living at Northwestern.
Oh, and did we mention that Dave’s hotel has officially voted to go on strike?
So, in between scheduling appointments, writing these updates, working my actual full-time job and cuddling my dog, I will also be making strike signs.
Current favorite:
“WORKED FOR MARRIOTT FOR 35+ YEARS AND ALL I GOT WAS CANCER AND THIS SIGN.”
We’ll be back in October with PLENTY of updates.
Because at this point, the only thing we know for sure is that there is always another appointment, another plot twist and, apparently, another -ologist waiting around the corner.
Quite frankly, I could use a Ketel One prescription from a Mixologist.
Until then, we’re taking things one day, one appointment and one questionable kidney function result at a time.
